Down came the shortwood strap on the ground. Maudlin scented something interesting.
“I got to sell my wood,” he repeated, surly-toned. However, he nodded his head when Jordan explained that it might be to his advantage to tarry a while.
“I’ll pay you for your time,” agreed Morse eagerly.
Side by side they seated themselves on a fallen tree. The young wood gatherer looked wicked enough to do anything that might be requested of him.
“Are you married?” asked Morse.
Maudlin’s face darkened.
“Ha! In love? I see!” laughed the other.
Maudlin turned sheepish eyes on his interrogator; then looked down, flushed, and finished:
“I’d a been married all right if it hadn’t been for a damn bloke along Paradise Road,” he explained.