"
"You needn't. I've got twice as much now as I intend to use. Come on
around here and be sociable. I want to make love to you."
Nance declined the invitation.
"Has Dr. Adair put you wise on what he's letting you in for?"
"Rather! Raw eggs, rest, and rust. Mother put him up to it. It's perfect
rot. I'll be feeling fit as a fiddle inside of two weeks. All I need is
to get out of this hole. They couldn't have kept me here this long if it
hadn't been for you."
"And I reckon you're counting on going back and speeding up just as you
did before?"
"Sure, why not?"
"Because you can't. The sooner you soak that in, the better."
He blew a succession of smoke rings in her direction and laughed.
"So they've taken you into the conspiracy, have they? Going to
frighten me into the straight and narrow, eh? Suppose I tell them that
I'm lovesick? That there's only one cure for me in the world, and
that's you?"
The ready retort with which she had learned to parry these personalities
was not forthcoming. She felt as she had that day five years ago in his
father's office, when she told him what she thought of him. He smiled up
at her with the same irresponsible light in his brown eyes, the same
eager desire to sidestep the disagreeable, the old refusal to accept life
seriously. He was such a boy despite his twenty-six years. Such a
spoiled, selfish lovable boy!
With a sudden rush of pity, she went to him and took his hand:
"See here, Mr.
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