) Nasty,
ain't it, Jack? and this yer's your house--the old man's house--eh?
Why, this is--this is where she came. Jack, Jack! (Eagerly.) Tell
me, pard, where is she?
Starbottle (aside, rubbing his hands). We shall have it now!
Oakhurst. She has gone,--gone! But hear me. She had deceived you
as she has me. She has gone,--gone with her first husband, Henry
Pritchard.
Sandy (stupefied). Gone! Her first husband! Pritchard!
Oakhurst. Ay, your wife!
Sandy. Oh, damn my wife! I'm talking of Mary,--Miss Mary,--the
little schoolma'am, Jack; the little rose of Poker Flat. Oh! I
see--ye didn't know her, Jack,--the pertiest, sweetest little--
Oakhurst (turning away coldly). Ay, ay! She is here!
Sandy (looking after him affectionately). Look at him, boys!
Allers the same,--high-toned, cold, even to his pardner! That's
him,--Jack Oakhurst! But Jack, Jack, you're goin' to shake hands,
ain't ye? (Extends his hand, after a pause. OAKHURST takes it
gloomily.)
Col. Starbottle (who has been regarding interview with visible
scorn and disgust, advancing to OAKHURST). You will--er--pardon me
if, under the--er--circumstances, I withdraw from this--er--
disgraceful proceeding. The condonation, by that man, of two of
the most tremendous offences to society and to the code, without
apology or satisfaction, Ged, sir, is--er--er--of itself an insult
to the spectator. I go, sir--
Oakhurst.
Pages:
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122