It'll be comfortin', too,
havin' him around where we can have a look at him any time we take the
notion. Don't you think so?"
Steve's grunted reply was hardly intelligible, but it seemed to satisfy
Fat Joe. The latter had long before learned to read the signs; he knew
when his best efforts were only wasted words, and once more he gave his
attention to the jogging horses and his neglected melody.
Caleb Hunter, wondering after Steve had gone just how much he might
have seemed to insinuate, regretted that he had spoken at all.
Recollection of Allison's bluff cordiality with O'Mara only made him
the more ashamed of his suspicion, and yet the next morning at table he
attempted, covertly, to sound Sarah for an opinion, too. She
invariably solved his perplexities or relegated them to the limbo of
gentle ridicule.
"Just why should he want this East Coast job to fail?" he puzzled
aloud. "He's in it, along with Elliott and Ainnesley, even if he isn't
in so deep. That is, of course, assuming that he does want it to fail."
The preoccupied gleam in Miss Sarah's eyes promised a reply that might
be worth considering, but when it came Caleb found trouble in
assimilating it.
"They did look so well together," she murmured absently. "He's so much
broader--and a whole head taller, too!"
It didn't seem to be exactly a relevant answer, but Caleb nodded
patiently.
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