Doing exactly the things that Marie's
mother had predicted he would do, committing the very sins that
Marie was always a little afraid he would commit--there must
be some sort of twisted revenge in that, he thought, but for the
life of him he could not quite see any real, permanent
satisfaction in it--especially since Marie and her mother
would never get to hear of it.
For that matter, he was not so sure that they would not get to
hear. He remembered meeting, just on the first edge of his spree,
one Joe De Barr, a cigar salesman whom he had known in San Jose.
Joe knew Marie--in fact, Joe had paid her a little attention
before Bud came into her life. Joe had been in Alpine between
trains, taking orders for goods from the two saloons and the
hotel. He had seen Bud drinking. Bud knew perfectly well how much
Joe had seen him drinking, and he knew perfectly well that Joe
was surprised to the point of amazement--and, Bud suspected,
secretly gratified as well. Wherefore Bud had deliberately done
what he could do to stimulate and emphasize both the surprise and
the gratification. Why is it that most human beings feel a
sneaking satisfaction in the downfall of another? Especially
another who is, or has been at sometime, a rival in love or in
business?
Bud had no delusions concerning Joe De Barr.
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