There were times
when he hated her for the very beauty of her character. Then he cursed
her in bleak, despairing rage, more against himself than against her;
but never without afterward cringing in morbid contemplation of the
shudder it brought to her sensitive face.
If any one had been so bold as to accuse him of not loving her, he
would have been crushed to earth by the brute that was in him. On the
other hand, if he were timorously charged with loving her, it would
have been like him to call the venturesome one a liar--and mean it,
too, in his heart.
"But five hundred is five hundred," he was repeating doggedly in
opposition to her argument in behalf of the boy. "You don't know
whether he's guilty or not, Mary. So what's the use of all this
gabble? It makes me sick. Business is bad. We need every dollar we can
scrape up. I won't be a party to--"
"You harbor pickpockets and thieves and--yes, murderers, I'm told,
Tom. It is a shameful fact that more sneak thieves follow this show
and share with its owner than any other concern in the business. Oh, I
know all about it! Don't try to deny it.
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