Wolf in Man's Clothing Read Online Free PDF

seem so reasonable and so right. He said that Craig would never ask me for it himself and if I loved Craig I would get the divorce. And that as soon as the year of training was up we could remarry.”
    It was clear enough; still incredible, if one didn’t know Drue, but clear. What was also pretty clear was dirty work at the crossroads.
    â€œSo you got the divorce?”
    â€œYes. It took six weeks.”
    â€œAnd Craig got his training?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWhat happened then?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œYou don’t …”
    She shook her head and looked away from me. “He didn’t come back.”
    â€œBut didn’t he understand why you did it? Didn’t you see each other and write and …”
    She shook her head again. “No. That is, I did write a few times. But he didn’t answer. The divorce went through very quietly and—and so quickly. And that was all.”
    After a moment, I said, “And you never tried to see him?”
    â€œNo.” Her mouth moved a little wryly. “You see, I had my pride.”
    And it had cost her enough. Well, I didn’t say it. I pulled my uniform over my head and struggled through it and glanced at my watch. For all she’d said so much it had been only a few minutes.
    â€œBut now,” she said unexpectedly, “it’s different. Pride doesn’t seem to matter so much. I’m older; I’m an adult now and a woman. I know what I want. I was—such a child then.”
    She was still a child. I didn’t say it, but took my cap and went to the mirror so as to adjust it to hide the white lock in my rather abundant auburn hair. “And now you’ve come back.”
    She sat for a moment in silence. In the mirror I watched a look of determination come slowly into her face. Finally, she said, “Yes, now I’ve come back. I had to.”
    Watching her instead of what I was doing, I jabbed a pin into my thumb and muttered. So she’d made up her mind to fight, and she’d given up long ago her best and strongest weapon.
    â€œI can understand your getting too much of Alexia,” I said briefly. “I can understand your leaving the house. I can even understand your—well, believing Pa Brent. And letting Craig go without any effort to keep him. But I cannot understand Craig.”
    â€œWell, neither can I. Now,” she said, in a kind of abject voice which was not at all like her. Except for her flair of defiance with Alexia, she had been in a rather crushed state of mind ever since we started to Balifold, I realized then. This was not, however, her natural and customary reaction to life. She was a perfectly sensible and altogether charming young woman with considerable backbone—which up to then had certainly, however, been held in abeyance to a marked degree. But then love does do very odd things, and obviously she was still heartbreakingly in love with the man whom, nevertheless, she had divorced.
    She patted the little dog. “Sarah, it was all so clear then. It’s only now, after I’ve had time to think and time to regret that I see it was all wrong. I believed it then, though. I never suspected.”
    â€œSuspected what?” I said with a rather nervous glance at my watch again. “Suspected whom?”
    â€œAnything. Anybody,” she said.
    â€œAnd now you do?”
    â€œNow I do. Now I”—she stopped and said in a kind of whisper staring at the rug—“now I’ve got to know what happened.”
    That at least was a step in the right direction and one clearly indicated by the foregoing little tale. I said briskly and, I remember, almost gaily, “Good for you. It’s high time. I’m proud of you.”
    â€œIt’s not easy,” she said, and gave me a quick and rather diffident glance. “I mean—well, suppose Alexia is right. Suppose Craig doesn’t want to see me. I