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Monsieur Polk said. He stood up and put his cigar in

the ashtray before leaning over to shake Beau's hand. "You know," he said softly, "what a field day our gossip columnists in the newspapers will have with

this?"

"We know." Beau looked at me. "We're

prepared for all that as long as we get Pearl back." "Very well. Good luck with Madame Tate,"

Monsieur Polk said, and we left.

"I feel so-w--eak, Beau, so weak and afraid," I

said as we left the building for our car.

"You can't present yourself to that woman

while you're in this state of mind, Ruby. Let's stop for

something to eat to build your strength. Let's be

optimistic and strong. Lean on me whenever you have

to," he said, his face dark, his eyes down. "This is

really all my fault," he murmured. "It was my idea,

my doing."

"You can't blame yourself solely, Beau. I knew

what I was doing and I wanted to do it. I should have

known better than to think we could splash water in

the face of Destiny."

He hugged me to him and we got into our car

and started for the bayou. As we rode, I rehearsed the

things I would say. I had no appetite when we stopped

to eat, but Beau insisted I put something in my

stomach.

The late afternoon grew darker and darker as

the sun took a fugitive position behind some long,

feather

brushed storm clouds. All the blue sky seemed

to fall behind us as we drove on toward the bayou and

the confrontation that awaited. As familiar places and