"Is that true?" she said, watching them.
And all the time a voice in her mind said to her that it was true.
"God knows I wouldn't wish it for the best money ever I handled," said one man, and looked aside from her eyes.
Another shook his head, and muttered something about the Will o' God. A third said it was the sharp end of the branch that played hammock with her; he lost a cow once himself the same way. Old Kearney summed up for the group.
"There is no doubt in it, Miss Christian, my dear child——"
Christian leaned hard on Larry's shoulder as she rose to her feet.
"I'm going to get Carmody's gun," she said, beginning to walk away. "He had one. I saw it. I don't suppose he'll mind lending it to me."
There are illnesses that take possession of their victims slowly and quietly, with an imperceptible start, and a gradual crescendo of envelopment; others there are, that strike, sudden as a hawk, or a bullet. And this is true also of that other illness, the fever of the mind and heart that is called Love. An old song says, and says, for the most part, truly,
"I attempt from Love's sickness to fly in vain."