Morgan walked with her toward Judge Thayer's office, whither she was bound with the mail. Behind them the loafers snickered and passed quips of doubtful humor and undoubted obscenity, but careful to present the face of decorum until Morgan was well beyond their voices. No matter what doubt they had of his luck holding with Seth Craddock, they were not of a mind to make a trial of it on themselves.
"I think the best thing to do with this town is just let it go till it dries up and blows away," she said, with the vindictive impatience of youth. "What little good there is in it isn't worth the trouble of cleaning up to save."
"Your father's got everything centered here, he told me. There must be a good many honest people in the same boat."
"Maybe we could sell out for something, enough to take us away from here. Of course we expected Ascalon to turn out a different town when we came here, the railroad promised to do so much. But there's nothing to make a town when the cattle are gone. We might as well let it begin to die right now."
"You're gloomy this morning, Miss Thayer. You remember the Mennonites that wanted to settle here and were afraid?"
"There's no use for you to throw your life away making the country safe for them."
"Of course not. I hadn't thought of them."
"Nor any of these cold-nosed cowards that turn their backs on you for fear your luck's going to change. Luck! the fools!"
"They don't figure in the case at all, Miss Thayer."