"Forever, as far as I'm concerned," I answered, beginning to tie up my books in a huge bundle as big as a peddler's pack, and as heavy.
Impatiently tying the horse to a post, they were in the shack and immediately prone on my bunk.
As I shouldered my load their murmuring voices full of amorous desire stung me like a gadfly. I hurried off toward Laurel, angry at life.
I explained to Randall why I had left his camp so soon. He was gravely concerned.
"I didn't tell Willets he could have my shack to take Gracie there. This is a bit too thick."
"Who's Gracie?"
"—a bad lot ... a girl that's been on the turf since she was in knee skirts—as long as I've known her. He loves her. She can twist him around her little finger. She's going to get him into something bad some day. He'll do anything she wants. And she's capable of putting him up to anything."
"Willets is weak, when it comes to women ... don't drink much ... a hard worker ... everybody likes him....
"Did you ever notice his limp ... only slight ... scarcely noticeable, isn't it?... he's a corking mechanic as well as shoemaker ... mighty clever ... now for instance, you wouldn't ever have known, unless I told you, that his left leg is made of wood?"
"I wouldn't even suspect it."