Kell's threw up his hands as if it were useless and impossible to reason with this man.
Then the crowd surged round the door with shuffling boots and hoarse, mingled greetings to Cleve, who presently came plunging in out of the melee.
His face wore a flush of radiance; his eyes were like diamonds. Joan thrilled and thrilled at sight of him. He was beautiful. Yet there was about him a more striking wildness. He carried a gun in one hand and in the other an object wrapped in his scarf. He flung this upon the table in front of Kells. It made a heavy, solid thump. The ends of the scarf flew aside, and there lay a magnificent nugget of gold, black and rusty in parts, but with a dull, yellow glitter in others.
“Boss, what'll you bet against that?” cried Cleve, with exulting laugh. He was like a boy.
Kells reached for the nugget as if it were not an actual object, and when his hands closed on it he fondled it and weighed it and dug his nails into it and tasted it.
“My God!” he ejaculated, in wondering ecstasy. Then this, and the excitement, and the obsession all changed into sincere gladness. “Jim, you're born lucky. You, the youngster born unlucky in love! Why, you could buy any woman with this!”
“Could I? Find me one,” responded Cleve, with swift boldness.
Kells laughed. “I don't know any worth so much.”
“What'll I do with it?” queried Cleve.
“Why, you fool youngster! Has it turned your head, too? What'd you do with the rest of your dust? You've certainly been striking it rich.”