When Jude returned she still stood in the middle of the room, her hands hanging limply by her side.
Something had gone out from her life with Gaston's going. But she was still thrilled and her soul was sensitive to impressions.
"What's up?"
Jude came close to her and stared boldly into the large, tired eyes.
"Nothing, Jude."
"You ain't so spry as when—there's company."
"It's late—you've had a nap. I'm dead tired."
"That's it," Jude laughed coarsely. "I've slept and kept out of mischief—you've been too durned entertaining—you're feeling the strain. See here, Joyce, maybe you better not be so—amusing in the future. Maybe you better leave Gaston to me—business is business and I guess we can do without petticoats in this camp."
He was losing control of himself.
"Jude," Joyce came close and tried to put her hands on her husband's shoulders. "Jude, I want you to pay Mr. Gaston back as soon as you can. It's been on my mind for quite a spell. We must owe him a lot. How much, Jude?"