'Why do you think that?'
''Cause you can't keep white men on the runs these times; they prefer the rushes. Squatter, J.P., ain't the little god almighty he used to be when he held his hands as if they were niggers bought an' paid for.'
Done was silent and thoughtful for a few minutes. The knowledge of his proximity to Lucy Woodrow awakened mixed feelings, and contrition was prominent. He had promised to write to her. He remembered how anxious she seemed to win the promise, and how deep her interest in him had been. Suffused with a melancholy tenderness, he told himself he had never forgotten her; her image had lived in his heart as in a shrine, screened perhaps, but only for sanctity's sake. No thought of Aurora stole in to disturb his unconscious hypocrisy. He had an unexpected longing to see Lucy again.
'Fact is, Mike,' he said presently, 'there is a ship mate of mine down there at Macdougal's I should very much like to meet again. What do you say?'
'I'm on. This shipmate, is she married or single?' Mike accented the third person feminine.
'Single. She is teaching Macdougal's youngsters. I had no other friend aboard.' Aurora obtruded now, and he looked into his mate's face. It was suspiciously vacant. 'What the devil are you thinking of, Mike?' he said with warmth.
'A friend o' mine,' answered Mike.
'Oh!'
'Aurora!'
'The devil you are? It's an infernal impertinence, then, let me tell you.'