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Brand, Max, 1892-1944

"Trailin'!"

But I guess you seen that?"
He settled down easily in his chair just as Sally resumed her place
opposite Bard.
"Steve," she said, with a quiet venom, "that bluff of his has been as
good as four-of-a-kind with you for a long time. I never seen you make
any play at Butch."
He returned amiably: "Like to sit here and have a nice social chat,
Sally, but I got to be gettin' back to the ranch, and in the meantime,
I'm sure hungry."
At the reminder of business a green light came in the fine blue eyes of
Sally. They were her only really fine features, for the nose tilted an
engaging trifle, the mouth was a little too generous, the chin so strong
that it gave, in moments of passivity, an air of sternness to her face.
That sternness was exaggerated as she rose, keeping her glare fixed upon
Nash; a thing impossible for him to bear, so he lowered his eyes and
engaged in rolling a cigarette. She turned back toward Bard.
"Sorry I got to go--before I finished eating--but business is business."
"And sometimes," suggested Bard, "a bore."
It was an excellent opening for a quarrel, but Nash was remembering
religiously a certain thousand dollars, and also a gesture of William
Drew when he seemed to be breaking an imaginary twig.


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