"
The matter rested there. Doris went away to do something about the
house. Hollister stood glowering at the distant outline of Bland's
cabin. A slow uneasiness grew on him. What did Myra mean by that
confidence? Did she mean anything? He shook himself impatiently. He
had a profound distaste for that revelation. In itself it was nothing,
unless some obscure motive lurked behind. That troubled him. Myra
meant nothing--or she meant mischief. Why, he could not say. She was
quit of him at her own desire. She had made a mouthful of his modest
fortune. If she had somehow guessed the real man behind that mask of
scars, and from some obscure, perverted motive meant to bring
shipwreck to both of them once more, Hollister felt that he would
strangle her without a trace of remorse.
CHAPTER XIV
All that summer the price of cedar went creeping up. For a while this
was only in keeping with the slow ascension of commodity costs which
continued long after the guns ceased to thunder. But presently cedar
on the stump, in the log, in the finished product, began to soar while
other goods slowed or halted altogether in their mysterious climb to
inaccessable heights,--and cedar was not a controlled industry, not a
monopoly.
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