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 "Now you take Cecily," he said. "The poor kid looks up to me as if I were her father or somebody. She does everything I tell her. And who the hell am I? That's the point. I've got a sweet nerve to be advising her what to do and what not to do, when all I rate is a rag-picking job in a low-life"

"Jock Hamill, let's leave tonight."

Jock had been so engrossed in his diatribe that he had almost forgotten Yvonne. Now, with her interruption, he appeared to bethink himself of her. His face softened. "I'm sorry, honey! I've got you all upset, haven't I?"

"No, that's not it. But I see how you feel, and since you do feel that way why should we stay on here two weeks more? You'll only hate it. Let's go find August and tell him we're quitting right now, don't you want to?"

Jock shook his head. "I've thought that all over, but it won't do. Rum trick on the old boy—he's been pretty good to us in his way. We agreed to hang on till the first of February, I suppose we'd better stick to our word.

"Don't look so worried!" he added, laughing at her. "I can stand it all right! I've stood it an awful lot of weeks already, remember, and thought it was hot stuff."

"You did, didn't you? You enjoyed it for awhile?"

"Sure I did! You know that."

Yvonne changed the subject abruptly. "Tell me about this afternoon."

(Cruel, the swift light of his face!) "We went up to mother's to lunch," he said, "and you should have seen mother and Cecily! They hit it off from the word go."

"I knew they would," said Yvonne.