By God, it's got to the point in this legislature that an honest
man's an object of obloquy."
"That's right," agreed Roper. "Easy enough for us to be square. We got good
ranches back of us and can spend the winter playing poker at the Mesa Club
if we feel like it. But if we stood where Billy George and Garner and
Roberts and Munz do, I ain't so damn sure my virtue would stand the strain.
Can you reach that salt, Sam?"
"Billy George has got a sick wife, and he's been wanting to send her back
to her folks in the East, but he couldn't afford it. The doctors figured
she ought to stay a year, and Billy would have to hire a woman to take care
of his kids. I said to him: 'Hell, Billy, what's a friend for?' And I
shoves a check at him. He wouldn't look at it; said he didn't know whether
he could ever pay it, and he had not come down to charity yet."
"Billy's a white man. That's what makes me sick. Right on top of all his
bad luck he comes here and sees that everybody is getting a big roll. He
thinks of that white-faced wife of his dragging herself round among the
kids and dying by inches for lack of what money can buy her.
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