And it'll never die. It'll live as long as he does!"
He looked down at the gun on his knee.
"That's all, Joe?"
Fat Joe cleared his throat.
"I--I gave him a job the next morning," lamely. "We seemed to be
getting along together fine so I---- Shucks, I was just afraid to have
him go! That's the flat truth of it. And you told me to keep him, if
I could. So I set him to checking up the stock in the storeroom and
put him on keepin' time for the squad up here. He's drawin' eighteen a
week, Steve. Was that all right? You were figurin' on keeping him
here?"
And then Joe Morgan saw Steve's eyes light up. He saw a swift
something flash out from within, which, once or twice before in the
years of their friendship, had set his face to burning.
"Joe," Steve exclaimed, "you're right about that matter of family
trees. I know a man right now who doesn't have to go back one minute
in his pedigree to prove that he's a gentleman. I've left some tough
propositions for you to solve, Joe. Lots of times, when I couldn't see
the way out, I've put it up to you. If I merely say 'thanks, Joe,' and
let it go at that, do you think it will do?"
"Suits me!" Joe's jauntiness was large. "And it goes double on the
rebound. But how--how do you suppose any woman ever came to set a--boy
like that to slipping? Or why didn't he sit down where it was quiet
and figure it all out for himself? One bad guess don't make the whole
world wrong.
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