Entirely oblivious of this dexterous turn, Miss Waldron complied, and drew up to the place where Barney Conlon's gang still labored in the trench.
"What is it, Conlon?" asked Brassfield.
"I was wonderin', sir," said Conlon, hat in hand, "if I could see you at your office in a half-hour or so. I'd not ask it, sir, if it wasn't important. It's about the business you was speakin' to me about this marnin'."
"Ah, yes: the pipe-line," said Brassfield. "Be at the office in half an hour, Conlon. Drive to the top of the hill, William. So goes our search for new thrills—road runs slap into pipe-lines and business, dearie."
"Well, we mustn't find fault with it for that," said she. "I've wanted to say to you—since the other evening—that I can see widening vistas showing oceans of good things I never reckoned on in the least. And when I get unreasonable and generally brutal and abusive, I am not really and fundamentally so any more than I am now!"
"I know, dearest; I know, Bessie. And, now, don't give yourself a minute's uneasiness about anything that took place. I apologize for everything out of the proper which I said——"
"Which you said?"
"Yes—yes! You were quite right, and I never loved you more than then—except now. Let's not allude to it again, but just go on as before."
"Not quite as before," said she. "I'll not ask you why you kept back so many of your—your my—qualities from me—must you get down here at this old counting-room?—and I'll only ask you two questions—cramp the carriage a little more, William! One is, where can I get a copy of the first edition of Child's Scottish Ballads—wasn't that the name of the 'Dark Tower' book?"
"You may search me, Bessie," said he, standing by the curb in front of his office. "Don't think I ever heard of it."