"Come, old man, you can't afford to do this. Go
out and put up the team, and to-morrow we'll take Mrs. Burke home--I'll
explain that she came over after the mail and couldn't get back."
Rivers turned on him again with a sneer. "You cussed fool, can't you see
that she _can't_ go back to Burke? I've made her mine--you understand?"
Bailey's hands fell slack. He suddenly remembered something. He brushed
his hand over his brow as if to clear his vision:
"Jim, Jim, I--good God!--how could you do such a thing?" He was
helpless as a boy, in face of this hideous complication.
Rivers pushed his advantage. He developed a species of swagger:
"Never mind about that. It's done. Now what are you going to do? Can you
fix up such a thing as that?" Bailey was still silent. "It simply means
that I'm her husband from this time on. Sit down, Blanche--I'm going to
put up the team, but to-morrow morning we go. We couldn't make it now,
anyway," he added. "There's nothing for it but to stay here all night."
Bailey stood aside to let him go out, then went to the stove and
mechanically stirred it up and put some water heating.
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