“No loss to you—worst place to live in on earth—no exceptions—I know—been there myself three months—got friends there likely?”
“I hardly know,” she acknowledged doubtfully. “I think so, but I shall have to hunt some place in which to stay to-night. Can you tell me of some—some respectable hotel, or boarding house?”
The man wheeled about, until he could look at her more clearly.
“That's a pretty hard commission, Miss,” he returned uneasily: “There may be such a place in Sheridan, but I have never found it. Old Mother Shattuck keeps roomers, but she won't have a woman in the house. I reckon you 'll have to try it at the hotel—I'll get you in there if I have to mesmerize the clerk—you'll find it a bit noisy though.”
“Oh, I thank you so much. I don't mind the noise, so it is respectable.”
He laughed, good humoredly.
“Well I don't propose to vouch for that—the proprietor ain't out there for his health—but, I reckon, you won't have no serious trouble—the boys mostly know a good woman when they see one—which isn't often—anyhow, they're liable to be decent enough as long as I vouch for you.”
“But you know nothing of me.”
“Don't need to—your face is enough—I'll get you the room all right.”
She hesitated, then asked: