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Rh you money for to tell 'bout Paul—but Joe she don' care 'bout money. Py gosh, I can' maak moch from dat man, Joe—

"An' Jim Harris—py damn, dat's all he wan' dat he don' git: Joe, for to tell heem 'bout Paul Bunion! Eferybody in Pancake, she know what Harris wan' an' what he can' get!" He shrugged and lifted the razor to his cheek.

Jim had driven away and Goddard stood alone. He glanced within the men's shanty and saw Taylor talking to the cook. One of the great hands at his side closed slowly and he walked away toward the big house where Helen sat at her desk, turning idly the pages of a lumber trade journal.

"Did you have a good time—fishing?" he asked.

She had looked up at his entrance; at his tone she dropped her eyes.

"Yes, Milt. We made a nice catch."

He laughed shortly. "I notice you haven't took time to fish with me this spring."

"No, we've both been very busy."

"Yeah—both of us. But you ain't too busy to go out with Taylor."

A quick flush appeared in her cheeks. "That's entirely uncalled for Milt. You do a lot lately to make it unpleasant for me. I don't think it's fair in you and I don't like it because—you haven't the right."

The hand at his side closed tightly again. "No right," he growled. "Maybe not. Before he come up here, though, you used to think enough of me."

"I thought of you then as I do now: as a good friend, as a loyal friend, as a man who has done more for me in