"
"He doesn't consider it sordid," Hollister said. "Work is what he
considers sordid--and there is something to be said for his viewpoint,
at that. He enjoys himself tramping around with a gun, spending an
afternoon to catch half a dozen six-inch trout."
"But it _is_ sordid," Lawanne persisted. "Were you ever in their
house?"
Hollister shook his head.
"It isn't as comfortable as your men's bunk house. They have boxes for
chairs, a rickety table, a stove about ready to fall to pieces. There
are cracks in the walls and a roof that a rat could crawl through--or
there would be if Mrs. Bland didn't go about stuffing them up with
moss and old newspapers. Why can't a gentleman, an athlete and a
sportsman make his quarters something a little better than a Siwash
would be contented with? Especially if he has prevailed on a woman to
share his joys and sorrows. Some of these days Mr. Bland will wake up
and find his wife has gone off with some enterprising chap who is
less cocksure and more ambitious."
"Would you blame her?" Doris asked casually.
Pages:
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258