“No.”
“But you're sore?”
“Sure I'm sore. Pearce put me in bad with you, didn't he?”
“No. You misunderstood me. Red hasn't a thing against you. And neither he nor anybody else could put you in bad with me.”
“All right. Maybe I was hasty. But I'm not wasting time these days,” replied Cleve. “I've no hard feelings.... Pearce, do you want to shake hands—or hold that against me?”
“He'll shake, of course,” said Kells.
Pearce extended his hand, but with a bad grace. He was dominated. This affront of Cleve's would rankle in him.
“Kells, what do you want with me?” demanded Cleve.
A change passed over Kells, and Joan could not tell just what it was, but somehow it seemed to suggest a weaker man.
“Jim, you've been a great card for me,” began Kells, impressively. “You've helped my game—and twice you saved my life. I think a lot of you.... If you stand by me now I swear I'll return the trick some day.... Will you stand by me?”