By hokey, seems like there's no dodgin'
either one."
Ford lifted a bloodshot eye to the other. "And I always counted you for
a friend, Bill," he reproached heavily. "Sandy says I licked you good
and plenty. Well, looks to me like you had it coming, all right."
"Well--I got it, didn't I?" snorted Bill, his hand lifting involuntarily
to his nose. "And I ain't bellering, am I?" His mouth took an abused,
downward droop. "I ain't holdin' any grudge, am I? Why, Sandy here can
tell you that I held one side of you up whilst he was leadin' the other
side of you home! And I am sorry I stood there and seen you get married
off and never lifted a finger; I'm darned sorry. I shoulda hollered
misdeal, all right. I know it now." He pulled remorsefully at his wet
mustache, which very much resembled a worn-out sharing brush.
Ford straightened up, dropped a hand upon his thigh, and thereby
discovered another sore spot, which he caressed gently with his palm.
"Say, Bill, you were there, and you saw her. On the square now--what's
she like? And what made me marry her?"
Bill pulled so hard upon his mustache that his teeth showed; his breath
became unpleasantly audible with the stress of emotion.
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