Flukey groaned.
"Then it's something else than that, because I've known for a long time that Flea loved ye. What's the matter? What's the matter with ye both?"
"Floyd, when I tell you that I do not know," answered Horace, "will you believe me?"
"Did ye want her to tell ye somethin'—something that'll keep ye from takin' her now?" Horace's silence drew an outpouring from Flukey. "And I suppose she said she wouldn't—and ye won't take her unless she tells ye. Then ye'll never get her; for, when Flea says she won't, she won't, if she dies for it! Ain't ye lovin' her well enough to take her, anyway?"
Horace answered warmly, "Yes, of course, I am!"
By the dawn of day Floyd had become so much worse that a trained nurse was placed at his side, and the physician's verdict, that the boy might die at any moment, overshadowed the threats of the squatter father.
Lon Cronk had come alone to Everett's office on the hour set. Brimbecomb wondered vaguely where the other man was, and what was his concern in the affair.
After greeting Lon coldly, the young lawyer said: