"Now what do you intend doing?" she asked him.
"I'm going to work."
"Good! Good!" She clapped her hands gleefully.
"Oh, I don't WANT to," he protested, "but the old gentleman thinks
I'm no good, and I'd like to show him he's wrong. After I've done
that, I intend to loaf again--yes, and I'll know how to loaf by
that time. Of course, I'll have to pay my debts, too."
"Poor Mr. Weeks!"
"Why poor?"
"He is terribly agitated to learn that we came to your rescue. He
knows now that he really entertained an angel unaware, and his
grief of soul is comical."
"Weeks isn't such a bad sort."
But her eyes showed a sudden flash of anger as she returned: "He
deserves to be forced out of the service."
"That wouldn't do any good. His successor might be worse."
"Haven't you any resentment? I dislike placid people!"
"Plenty! If I get a crack at Alfarez---"
"Now don't allow your mind to dwell on that," she cautioned. "I
think he is riding to a fall, as it is. What do you want to do?"
"Anything. I'm going to hunt a job this afternoon."
"What sort?"
"Something with big pay and no responsibility."
"Those positions are taken--by the army," she laughed. "What can
you do?"
"I can take an automobile apart.
Pages:
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173