Nan softly closed her door and threw herself on the bed for a good cry, but the tears would not come. Instead she laughed rather hysterically. For some reason or other she couldn’t find anything to cry about, so she sat up, powdered her nose and tried to think calmly.
“You are a despicable liar,” she told her image in the old mirror. “Just a common thief, Nan Whitlock. You were weak enough to get into this mess; now get yourself out clean.”
CHAPTER VI: REPUTATIONS
That night Charley Prentice got as drunk as the proverbial boiled owl. For several years Prentice had totally abstained from all liquor, but this night he drank himself blind drunk at the Oasis and took two quarts of whisky home with him.
It was nothing unusual for a man to get drunk in Lobo Wells, but for a man in Charley Prentice’s position it was not quite the right thing. Harry Cole had tried to dissuade him, but he refused to accept advice.
“You don’t want that stuff, Charley,” said Cole. “You can’t afford to fill yore skin with hard liquor.”
“Lemme alone,” said Charley owlishly. “My business.”
And Amos Baggs, not at all a teetotaller, looked with disfavour upon Charley. He had a few drinks with Charley, arguing against it all the time, but Charley was too drunk to care what Amos thought.
After Charley staggered away with his two bottles, Amos conferred with Harry.
“That’s all wrong,” said Amos. “He’s been sober and clear-minded for a long time. And you know Charley. What’s wrong with him, Harry?”