"Do you
consider that a description of yourself?"
"I certainly do." Jordan King's strong young jaw took on a grim
expression.
"Know this then"--Burns spoke deliberately--"there's not a sane girl who
liked you well enough before your accident to marry you who wouldn't
marry you now."
"That's absurd. Women want men, not cripples."
"You're no cripple. Stop using that term."
"What else? A man condemned to wear a plaster jacket for at least a
year." King evidently did his best not to speak bitterly.
"Bosh! Suppose the same thing happened to me. Would you look on me
askance for the rest of my days, no matter what man's job I kept on
tackling? Besides, the plaster jacket's only a precaution. You wouldn't
disintegrate without it."
King looked at Red Pepper Burns and smiled in spite of himself. "I'm
glad to hear that, I'm sure. As for looking at you askance--you are you,
R.P. Burns."
"Apply the same logic to yourself. You are you, and will continue to be
you, plus some assets you haven't had occasion to acquire before in the
way of dogged endurance, control of mind, and such-like qualities, bred
of need for them. You will be more to us all than you ever were, and
that's saying something. And the back's going to be a perfectly good
back; give it time. As for--if you don't mind my saying it--that
invalid's diversion, I don't suppose it's hurt you any. What I'm
concerned for is the hurt it may have done somebody else.
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