The Weber Literary Journal "You're a crazy fool, Dave Stern," his cynical fried Boone had told him. "She's not the woman you want. Men are a pastime to her: puppets to dance as she pulls the strings, to be thrown over when a new toy sails into view. Alice is the personification of the eternal feminine, cruel, calculating, deceitful, playing with men as a cat will with mice. That's why we call women 'cats'!" "Why, you old woman hater!" he had laughed. "Disappointment must have warped your brain. Alice is different as innocent as a child." "That's what they all say at first. But just be careful that the little ship of love doesn't get wrecked on the rocks of disillusionment; you'd better stick to Kipling. You understand him better than you do women anyway." This last jibe was directed at his love for Kipling's poems, a small volume of which he carried constantly. Thus he had joined the pursuit of the dazzling Alice, throwing all the fire and ardor of a first love into the chase. It became an obsession with him; everything was forgotten in his mad desire for the girl. The sweet reception of his gifts and attentions carried him to the heights of ecstasy, until he realized that his rivals were similarly cajoled. His business, the chain of factories so laboriously and efficiently established by his father and turned over to his active management when the latter retired, began to suffer as a result of his inattention. Contracts that would have been rejected in saner moments were carelessly accepted and later proved disastrous. The inefficiency and delay which began to creep into the formerly sound organization, finally brought about a stormy interview with his father. Almost heartbroken by the slow disintegration of his beloved company, the old man had flayed his son. "What has come over you, boy? Don't you realize that we may face financial ruin even complete dissolution, if you don't buck up? And Dave," a quiver crept into the father's voice, pathetic, pleading, "it means our family honor and my pride if we go under." 8 The Weber Literary Journal Ashamed of his slipping, he had attacked his work with new vigor, resolving to forget the girl whom he knew in his heart to be entirely selfish and self-absorbed, who considered him only an amusing and profitable plaything. His resolution had lasted for about two weeks until a half tearful query had torn down the barrier of his resistance and sent him back to her feet. Competition had narrowed down to Reggie Van Pelt and himself, for the rest had withdrawn as gracefully as possible to watch with delight the battle of two determined men for the favors of the fickle girl. This spurred David on and only added more fuel to his burning love. Then came the invitation to the Holmes' ranch party which the entire set had been looking forward to for months. Of course Alice and Van Pelt were going, but he had steeled himself against temptation, knowing that his work was in sad need of his attention. The day before the departure of the party the telephone rang. "Is this David?" came cooing over the wire. His heart leaped in recognition, and a husky "yes" was all he could muster. "Doesn't my grumpy friend know he's going to spoil my whole trip by staying away? Oh, I know it's that hateful business again; it always does intrude. Or is it only an excuse?" "But Alice, you know," he stumbled incoherently, "it's like this" "If my David isn't there," she broke in, "I know I won't enjoy it at all. I command you to come." Here the voice became pleading. (How well she knew its power!) "I'll be awfully lonesome so please, David." Of course he had gone, deceiving his father with the plea that the raw materials used by the factories were unsatisfactory and that a personal visit to the source was necessary. The days in the west had gone all too fast and unsatisfactorily, Alice doling out her favors impartially. One day she would send his spirits skyward when she rode with him; the 9