She finally lowered the glass with a groan.
"He's made a mess of it," she said, "and now he's trying it over again.
And a man like that is put in charge of a fairy like the _Martha_! Well,
it's a good argument against marriage, that's all. No, I won't look any
more. Come on in and play a steady, conservative game of billiards with
me. And after that I'm going to saddle up and go after pigeons. Will
you come along?"
An hour later, just as they were riding out of the compound, Joan turned
in the saddle for a last look at the _Martha_, a distant speck well over
toward the Florida coast.
"Won't Tudor be surprised when he finds we own the _Martha_?" she
laughed. "Think of it! If he doesn't strike pay-dirt he'll have to buy
a steamer-passage to get away from the Solomons."
Still laughing gaily, she rode through the gate. But suddenly her
laughter broke flatly and she reined in the mare. Sheldon glanced at her
sharply, and noted her face mottling, even as he looked, and turning
orange and green.
"It's the fever," she said. "I'll have to turn back."
By the time they were in the compound she was shivering and shaking, and
he had to help her from her horse.
"Funny, isn't it?" she said with chattering teeth. "Like seasickness--not
serious, but horribly miserable while it lasts.
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