He paused, staring vacantly at nothing. "And even that doesn't do any good! God help me, I've forgotten how to swear!"
To him, in this overwrought state, came Tracey, lumbering cheerfully in, his mouth shaped for a whistle. At sight of Nat he pulled up as if hit by a club.
"'Evenin', Mister Duncan. What's the matter?"
By an effort Nat brought his gaze to bear upon the boy and comprehended his existence.
"Ain't you feeling well, Mr. Duncan?"
"No—rotten!"
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing!" Nat shouted ferociously.
"Anything I kin——"
"No!"