She had been careless. A young man was playing the banjo. We pretend we never think of everything that makes us what we are. There was a very white-faced youngster of eighteen who brushed back his hair exactly in Russell’s manner, and was disposed to be uncomfortably silent when he was near her, and to whom she felt it was only Christian kindness to be consistently pleasant; and a lax young man of five-and-twenty in navy blue, who mingled Marx and Bebel with the more orthodox gods of the biological pantheon. It was a great weight from her shoulders to confide in another human being, and she suspected he did truly believe her. So, bloody but unbeaten, weak and spent but undaunted, he waited for the Wastrel to spring up. It's my way when I'm ruffled. Anyhow, there was some pleasurable satisfaction in knowing where the quarry would be for the next three weeks. Howsomdever, if you should reach t'other side, take an old feller's advice, and don't be foolhardy enough to venter back again. "What do you want fot that coat, friend?" asked Jack, as he came up.
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