“She hasn’t turned me out,” he muttered. “I came out.”
“Let her explain that, Rivers. See? She can’t do it while she’s gallivanting with this here Northrup.”
Larry saw the possibilities from Maclin’s standpoint, but he saw Mary-Clare’s smile and that uplifted head. He was overwhelmed again by the sense of impotence.
“Give a woman a free rein, Rivers, she’ll shy, sooner or later.” Maclin was gaining assurance as he saw Larry’s discomfort. “That’s what keeps women from getting on––they shy! When all’s said, a tight rein is a woman’s best good, but some women have to learn that.”
Something in Larry burned hot and resentful, but whether it was because of Maclin or Mary-Clare he could not tell, so he kept still.
“Let’s turn in, anyway, for to-night, old boy.” Maclin’s voice sounded paternal. “To-morrow is to-morrow and you’ll feel able to tackle the job after a night’s sleep.”
So they turned in and it was the afternoon of the next day when Larry took his walk to the Point.
Just as he started forth Maclin gave him two or three suggestions.
“I’d offer to hire the shanty,” he said. “That will put you in a safe position, no matter how they look at it. An old woman by the name of Peneluna thinks she owns it. There’s an old codger down there, too, Twombley they call him––he’s smart as the devil, but you can’t tell which way he may leap. Try him out. Get him to take sides with you if you can.”