Something ain't agreed with you."
She turned from him with a vague gesture of despair.
"If this here feelin' is goin' to keep up--why, I wisht I was dead--I
wisht I was dead!"
She went on to the swinging door, paused there to dab her eyes swiftly,
started to whistle a tune, and in this fashion marched back to the
eating-room. Fatty, turning back to the stove, shook his head; he was
more than ever convinced in his secret theory that all women are crazy.
Sally found that a new man had entered, one whom she could not remember
having seen before. She went to him at once, for it seemed to her that
she would die, indeed, if she had to look much longer on the familiar,
unshaven faces of the other men in the room.
"Anything you got," said the stranger, who was broad of hands and thick
of neck and he cast an anxious eye on her. "I hear you seen something of
a thinnish, dark feller named Bard."
"What d'_you_ want with him?" asked Sally with dangerous calm.
"I was aimin' to meet up with him. That's all."
"Partner, if you want to stand in solid around here, don't let out that
you're a friend of his.
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