"I guess we've gone at things sort of back-end-to," he said
regretfully. "You'd ought to have seen him first, hadn't you? An'
then you kicked his pet dawg in the slats when you canned Blenham. The
old man's right apt to be sore, Steve."
"I shouldn't be surprised," agreed Steve. "Who are the Temples, Bill?"
"Who tol' you about the Temples?" came the quick counter-question.
"Nobody. I stayed at their place last night."
Royce grunted.
"Didn't take you all year to find her, did it?" he offered bluntly.
"Who?" asked Packard in futile innocence.
"Terry Temple. The finest girl this side the pearly gates an' the
pretties'. What kind of a man have you growned to be with the women,
Steve?"
"No ladies' man, if that's what's worrying you, old pardner. I don't
know a dozen girls in the world. I just asked to know about these
people because they're right next-door to us and because they're
newcomers since my time."
Again Royce grunted, choosing his own explanation of Packard's
interest. But, answering the question put to him, he replied briefly:
"That little Terry-girl can have anything I got; her mother was some
class, too, they tell me. I dope it up she just died of shame when she
come to know what sort she'd picked for a runnin' mate. An' as for
him, he's a twisty-minded jelly-fish. He's absolutely no good. An',
if I ain't mistaken some considerable, you'll come to know him real
well before long.
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