Dave rubbed his coarse hand along the girl's smooth neck. 'They don't get her from Dave Spencer. We'll walk our chalks when we hear the bullet stoppers coming.'
Menotah stirred slightly, while a faint groan burst from her lips. Slowly she was returning from the bliss of insensibility to the awful dreariness of life. Then the Factor bethought himself of offering assistance to Marie.
So he snatched the bottle from the unwilling Dave, came over and touched her awkwardly on the shoulder. Not for years had he spoken with a 'civilised' woman.
'No darned use in crying, far as I can see.'
Marie dropped her handkerchief a little, but made no reply.
'I reckon tears are sort of unsatisfactory.'
Still no answer.
McAuliffe grew desperate. 'Never mind Lamont. He's not worth troubling over, anyway. See here! this is first-class whisky. Have a good pull at it. It'll make you feel fine and comfortable.'
He rubbed his coat sleeve over the neck, then pushed it close to her mouth.
Then she raised an angry flushed face. 'Leave me alone!' she cried.