Slowly, as he regarded him, all Bud's bitterness subsided. If Nan were
his daughter, this man was almost a son to him.
"Say, old friend, I'm--I'm not going back home with you to-morrow,"
Jeff went on. He stirred with a suggestion of nervousness, and then
flung himself upon the old man's littered-up bed. "I just can't, an'
that's a fact. I want to stop around here for a while. I got to."
He paused as though awaiting an answer, but none was forthcoming. Only
was there that steady regard from the man beyond the still open grip.
Bud was not thinking of the announcement. Jeff was certainly a
"good-looker," and he was beginning to understand something of the
attraction he must have for a woman like Elvine van Blooren. He was
slim and muscular, with a keen face of decision and strength. Then,
was he not on the rising wave which must ever appeal to the maturer
mind of a widow, however young? His disappointment rose again and
threatened to find expression. But he thrust it aside and struggled to
remember only his regard for the man.
Pages:
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240