Viewing page 202 of 421

This transcription has been completed. Contact us with corrections.

made a grab for the glass but Manning held on, beer was spilled, Manning cursed, his wife remonstrated with him, Miss Foster was much disturbed and the bartender retired ostensibly to call a cop. In the meantime, Imler returned and drank the beer. But the bartender and cop never appeared.

Miss Foster and I had a hair raising ride back to Tallwood, Manning driving the old Chevy like a wild man - a few beers and he was back on the dirt tracks again - claimed he used to be a racer. Miss Foster squeezed my hand limp as we careened around curves, passed on hills, bounced from one side of the road to the other crazily. But we made it. We sat on the porch together, the Mannings retiring, and waited for Imler to return with the girls whom Miss Foster felt responsible for. Then for some unknown reason, Miss Foster informed me she is not Miss Foster but Mrs. Worsfold, her husband an Englishman now in Hamilton. She met the Pattersons in Florida last winter and they persuaded her to take this job after her husband decided he could spare her, being on the road most of the time. She is really in Maine on false pretenses, not being supposed to work while in this country. Why she told me all this, I don't know. I was very direct with her. Maybe she thought if I knew she were married too, I'd open up a little. I'm sure Clifford told her I'm no bachelor. In fact, I think he got the dope for her, because he questioned me about it thoroughly earlier today. Well, anyhow, Imler arrived in due time and we went up to bed. I have slept like a log up here. And for all the beer we drink, I feel 100% all the time. Must be the exercise and the outdoor air.