"Jim Wilder used to work for us; I knew him well."
Lambert bent his head, a shadow of deepest gravity falling like a cloud over the animation which had brightened his features but a moment before. He sat in contemplative silence a little while, his voice low when he spoke.
"Even though he deserved it, I've always been sorry it happened."
"Well, if you're sorry, I guess you're the only one. Jim was a bad kid. Where's that horse you raced the train on?"
"I'm resting him up a little."
"You had him out here the other day."
"Yes. I crippled him up a little since then."
"I'd like to have that horse. Do you want to sell him, Duke?"
"There's not money enough made to buy him!" Lambert returned, lifting his head quickly, looking her in the eyes so directly that she colored, and turned her head to cover her confusion.
"You must think a lot of him when you talk like that."