"Will you let me go?" Josephine asked unexpectedly, and looked straight
at Ford. But though her glance was direct, it was unreadable, and Ford
mentally threw up his hands after one good look at her, and tried not to
betray the fact that this was what he had wanted, but had not hoped for.
"Sure, you can go," he said, with deceitful brevity. Josephine had not
spoken to him all the day before, except to say good-morning when he
came in to his breakfast. Ford made no attempt to understand her, any
more. He was carefully giving her the lead, as he would have explained
it, and was merely following suit until he got a chance to trump; but he
was beginning to have a discouraged feeling that the game was hers, and
that he might as well lay down his hand and be done with it. Which, when
he brought the simile back to practical affairs, meant that he was
thinking seriously of leaving the ranch and the country just as soon as
Mason returned.
He was thinking of trying the Argentine Republic for awhile, if he
could sell the land which he had rashly bought while he was getting rid
of his inheritance.
She did not offer any excuse for the request, as most women would have
done.
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