"You working? Say, that's a darned shame! Don't Bud send you any money?"

"He left some," said Marie frankly. "But I'm keeping that for baby, when

he grows up and needs it. He don't send any."

"Well, say! As long as he's in the State, you can make him dig up. For

the kid's support, anyway. Why don't you get after him?"

Marie looked down over the golf links, as the car swung around the long

curve at the head of the slope. "I don't know where he is," she said

tonelessly. "Where did you see him, Joe?"

Joe's hesitation lasted but long enough for him to give his mustache end

a twist. Marie certainly seemed to be well "over it." There could be no

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harm in telling.

"Well, when I saw him he was at Alpine; that's a little burg up in the

edge of the mountains, on the W. P. He didn't look none too prosperous,

at that. But he had money--he was playing poker and that kind of thing.

And he was drunk as a boiled owl, and getting drunker just as fast as

he knew how. Seemed to be kind of a stranger there; at least he didn't

throw in with the bunch like a native would. But that was more than a

month ago, Marie. He might not be there now. I could write up and find

out for you."

Marie settled back against the cushions as though she had already

dismissed the subject from her mind.

"Oh, don't bother about it, Joe. I don't suppose he's got any money,

anyway. Let's forget him."

"You said it, Marie. Stacked up to me like a guy that's got just enough

dough for a good big souse. He ain't hard to forget--is he, girlie?"

Marie laughed assentingly. And if she did not quite attain her old

bubbling spirits during the evening, at least she sent Joe back to San

Francisco feeling very well satisfied with himself. He must have been

satisfied with himself. He must have been satisfied with his wooing

also, because he strolled into a jewelry store the next morning and

priced several rings which he judged would be perfectly suitable for

engagement rings. He might have gone so far as to buy one, if he had

been sure of the size and of Marie's preference in stones. Since he

lacked detailed information, he decided to wait, but he intimated

plainly to the clerk that he would return in a few days.

It was just as well that he did decide to wait, for when he tried again

to see Marie he failed altogether. Marie had left town. Her mother, with

an acrid tone of resentment, declared that she did not know any

more than the man in the moon where Marie had gone, but that she

"suspicioned" that some fool had told Marie where Bud was, and that

Marie had gone traipsing after him. She had taken the baby along, which

was another piece of foolishness which her mother would never have

permitted had she been at home when Marie left.