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to calm down and release the tension-it just kept building up and up.
Mike looked at her calmly with familiar brown eyes, and seemed

to be aware in one glance that Cindy was very much on edge. "I guess
you're pretty tired after that game. I should have known better than
to interfere. But I wondered if you'd like to ride to Gettysburg with
me. It's a lovely afternoon, and I have to run an errand for Mr. Wood-

burn."
Cindy hesitated before she made a reply. "I don't know, Mike.

I have some studying I should do. But I guess the ride would give me

a good rest from the matches."
An hour later they were on the road, and for more than ten miles

neither of the two spoke. The music from the car's radio was like a
wall between them, and then Mike's long tanned fingers snapped it

off curtly in the middle of "Oh, Lonesome Me."
"Mike, I thought that you had asked me to ride along just for a

nice afternoon-just for a companion."
"Cindy, it wasn't purely for companionship. I could have gotten

anyone of a dozen girls to take a ride with me. This is an opportuni-
ty for us to talk this thing out once and for all. You didn't give me
an explanation on the phone that day, so now I'm asking you for one.
I don't mean to be nosey, but it would be more pleasant if we could

be civil with one another."
Cindy sat motionless for quite a while, peering out the side win-

dow. She counted the telephone poles along the highway, as she
pondered over' and over again whether to tell Mike the facts flatly, or
to prolong the ugly business. Suddenly with more courage than she'd
ever dreamed possible, she blurted out, "Mike, I couldn't be serious
with you, or anybody else for that matter, because it might eventually
lead to marriage. And I wouldn't be an acceptable wife for any white

man! You see, my mother was a Negro!"
Cindy held her breath; she was expecting a crash, a screeching

of brakes, something. There was nothing, not a sound. Only the
steady, monotonous hum of the snow-tread tires filled the drowsy
spring afternoon. Cindy had expected Mike to make some retort, but
he remained quiet, too quiet. She couldn't even look at him; it was
as though he hadn't heard one word she'd said. Cindy was uncomfort-
able, she was miserable. She imagined Mike wrecking the car, maybe
he'd even do something drastic to her. Why didn't he make some reply?

Then just as she was thinking about repeating her former words,
Mike turned his gaze from the road before him, "Cindy, I've known
this about you for some time now. When you kept avoiding me, I

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