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Rh fellow, no. I never advise a man to do anything. It is a most injudicious and unnecessary way of making enemies. But if you speak to Tempest I have no doubt that he will advise you. He has a soul above the sordidness of personal results." On the edge of the long ugly street with Grey Wolf clinging to the sides of it Slicker hesitated, jerking his words out.

"I called you a beast, and you are. But you're a brave beast. I concede you that. I hate you because you—you don't seem to recognise what a man naturally owes a woman. But I thank you for coming after me."

"Ah. And now that you have paid your debts you can go on hating me with a clear conscience. I think I would prefer that you did, so long as you realise that you forfeit that right so soon as you place yourself in the same category with myself. You are heading for it, you know."

"Well, I—I guess I'll likely speak to Tempest to-morrow," said Slicker, and he did it; disturbing Tempest where he worked at his office table, and plunging into the subject impetuously.

"My lungs are O. K.," he said. "There was no disease, you know. Only a weakness. De Choiseaux says any doctor would pass me."

Tempest thrust aside his papers and gave his attention reluctantly.

"Well, you should have a pretty fair idea of what it means by now," he said. "You're not blind."

"You should have a better. Dick told me to dress by what you said."

"Ah." Tempest smiled. "Did he? Well—you're a teetotaler, aren't you?"

"No. I've been drinking quite a little bit lately. I was more than half-seas over the other night." Slicker looked at him with his blue eyes darkening. "I want some kind of life that'll make a man of me, Tempest," he said.

Tempest sat still for a space with his jaw in his hand. Then he said:

"Do you think that would help you?"

"Why—I reckon it should. Don't you?"

Tempest turned and looked at him squarely.