The hot retort leaped to his lips
but he closed his teeth tight over it. A vision of Alcatraz with the
wind in tail and mane galloped back across his memory and staring
bitterly down at the girl he reflected that it was she who had brought
him face to face with the temptation of the outlaw horse.
Then he found that he was saying stupidly: "I'm sure sorry, Miss
Jordan. But I guess being sorry don't help much."
"None at all. And--we won't talk any longer about it, if you please.
The thing is done; another failure. Mr. Hervey will give you your pay.
You can do the rest of your talking to him."
She lowered her head; she opened the book; she adjusted it carefully
to the light streaming over her shoulder; she even summoned a faint
smile of interest as though her thoughts were a thousand miles from
this petty annoyance and back in the theme of the story. Perris, blind
with rage, barely saw the details, barely heard the many-throated
chuckle from the watchers across the patio. Never in his life had
he so hungered to answer scorn with scorn but his hands were tied.
Alcatraz he must have as truly as a starved man must have food; and to
win Alcatraz he must live on the Jordan ranch.
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