"How about it?" asked the winner, stacking his chips.
"I'm satisfied," said the man at VB's right.
"And VB?"
"Here, too!"
The boy sat back in his chair with a long-drawn breath after shoving his chips across to be cashed. He pushed his hat back for the first time, and a man across the table stared hard as he saw the harried face. The others were busy, cashing in.
"Just get in, VB?" some one asked.
He heard the question through a tumult. His muscles had already contracted in the first movement of rising; his will already directed his feet across the room to the bar to answer the call of those searching bottle eyes. Inwardly he raged at himself for holding off so long, for wasting those months, for letting that other new thing come into his life only to be torn away again; when it all meant mere delay, a drawing out of suffering! Only half consciously he framed the answer:
"Yes, I rode down to-night."
"Goin' on out?"
"What?" he asked, forcing his mind to give heed to the other.