THE PRICE - Part 2

Jean lived in a room at the college which was adequate but notluxurious. She climbed the two flights up, unlocked the door and headed for the bed. She lay down and bemusedly thought about her new acquaintance.
"Funny man" she decided and promptly returned to thoughts of Marx and Weber for the political sociology course.
During the next week Jean carried out her usual routine but noticed one day on going into the library the advertisement for Dr Roger Depaauw speaking on the Economics of Modern South Africa. It was to take place on a Friday evening and Jean's usual plan was to to go home on a Friday on the cheap coach trip but she suddenly remembered her encounter with Dave Stevens. Well, she was pretty busy right now and if she stayed over for the weekend she could complete the paper on which she was working and have it finished in plenty of time. She rang her mother and told her she would not be home.
The History Society normally held their talks in one of the smaller lecture theatres, but few people attended and there was no problem of accommodation. Roger Depaauw however had attracted a lot of attention and the talk had therefore been moved to a rather bigger venue. On arrival Jean found the room full and had a problem finding a seat. The talk was interesting and useful in a political sense. She saw one or two colleagues but most of her friends had gone home. The talk finally finished after a polite question session and Jean made her way to the exit. Dave Stevens from behind her said "Well, hello, you did come! Let's have a jar before they shut."

They headed for the nearest college bar and he said "What will it be?"
"Half of bitter please" she said and sat herself down on one of the bench seats.
Jean had an odd sensation of unreality. Dave Stevens was not the most communicative man in the world. His actions spoke for themselves.
He returned shortly with her drink and his own beer.
"Well, he said"what did you think of that?"
"Impressive" Jean replied. "Who would have thought that South Africa could achieve so much without massive bloodshed...although they still have a very long way to go."
"I agree. I have watched the continent for so long. Mandela is such an icon. All those years in jail, yet little or no feelings of anger, a totally dignified man of conscience."
"What else are you doing Jean?" he enquired.
"I did some English last year," she said, "but I am also doing a minor in history".
"Good combination" he replied, "but why no economics?"
"I was advised not do to it by my A level lecturer. Too much maths at degree level".
"Pity", he said, I'd have like you as one of my students".
She said nothing, but thought she was not too sure that would have been a good thing.
Dave Stevens was a tall man. Dark hair and very good eyes, she thought, but my God what goes on in that head?
They chatted some more about her various academic interests and then he told her that he had been at the university now for five years. His wife was pregnant and expecting their first child in four weeks' time.
"That's why I was shopping today. Poor sod" he said, "She's quite huge and beautiful, but pinioned to the chair with the weight. I'm helping out but men are pretty inefficient housewives".
"Only because they've cultivated the habit" Jean retorted.
"Well..fair enough"
When he looked at her she observed the depth of his gaze and found it steadily unnerving. To all intents and purposes they were having nothing more than a friendly drink in the bar. Natural enough in such an environment, buy she felt slightly uneasy.
"Do you think we might to do this again some time?" he asked.
"What about your wife?" she responded.
"Oh Brenda doesn't mind me getting out a bit. She understands my need for company.
Jean hesitated: our of her depth.