"Oh, no; I saw him and talked with him."
"The mischief you did! What did he have to say for himself?"
"Not much that will bear repeating. I'm too sorry for him to want to talk about it, Dick."
Bartrow wondered, and kept his wonder to himself. What he said was in the nature of worldly wisdom.
"Jeffard'll come out all right in the end. He's as obstinate as a pig, but that's the only swinish thing about him. I'm afraid he'll have to go through the stamp-mill and get himself pulverized; but when it comes to the clean-up there'll be more good metal than tailings. Don't you think so?"
"How should I know?" queried Constance.
"I didn't ask you what you know; I asked what you thought about it."
"You forget that we've met only two or three times."
"I don't forget anything. But I know you can size a man up while the rest of us are trying to get acquainted with him. Don't you believe that Jeffard will come out all right in the end?"
She was silent for a minute or two, and when she answered there was a tremulous note in her voice which was new to Bartrow.