If you don't--well, you'll pay heavy. I'll be on the job personal to
collect."
Clay swung away and strode down the street, light-heeled and lithe, the
sap of vital youth in every rippling muscle.
"Slim" Jim watched him, snarling hatred. If ever he got a good chance
at him it would be curtains for the guy from Arizona, he swore savagely.
CHAPTER XXV
JOHNNIE SAYS HE IS MUCH OBLIGED
Beatrice, just back from riding with Bromfield, stood on the steps in
front of the grilled door and stripped the gloves from her hands.
"I'm on fire with impatience, Bee," he told her. "I can hardly wait
for that three weeks to pass. The days drag when I'm not with you."
He was standing a step or two below her, a graceful, well-groomed
figure of ease, an altogether desirable catch in the matrimonial
market. His dark hair, parted in the middle, was beginning to thin,
and tiny crow's-feet radiated from the eyes, but he retained the light,
slim figure of youth. It ought not to be hard to love Clarendon
Bromfield, his fiancee reflected. Yet he disappointingly failed to
stir her pulses.
She smiled with friendly derision. "Poor Clary! You don't look like a
Vesuvius ready to erupt. You have such remarkable self-control."
His smile met hers. "I can't go up and down the street ringing a bell
like a town crier and shouting it out to everybody I meet."
Round the corner of the house a voice was lifted in tuneless song.
"Oh, I'm goin' home
Bull-whackin' for to spurn;
I ain't got a nickel,
And I don't give a dern.
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