I
guess he thinks Hermy'll do--till he gets tired of her an'--then what?"
"He--told me he's goin' t' marry her!" said Spike slowly, speaking with
an effort, "an' I guess Geoff ain't a liar. An' I wanter--go home."
"Home--after she throwed ye out? Ain't ye got no pride?"
"Aw, say, Bud," sighed Soapy, "I guess d' Kid ain't soused enough for
pride yet; sling another glass int' him--that'll fix him good, I
reckon."
"I ain't g-goin' t' drink no more," said Spike, resting heavy head
between his hands, "I guess I'll b-beat it home, f'lers."
"Bud," suggested Soapy, "ain't it about time you rang in little Maggie
on him?"
M'Ginnis whirled upon the speaker, snarling, but Soapy, having lighted
another cigarette, nudged Spike with a sharp elbow.
"Kid," said he, "Bud's goin' t' remind ye of little Maggie Finlay--you
remember little Maggie as drowned herself." Spike lifted a pale face
and stared from the placid Soapy to scowling Bud and shrank away.
"Yes," he whispered hoarsely, "yes--I'll never forget how she
looked--pale, so pale an' still, an' th' water--runnin' out of her brown
curls--I--I'll never forget--"
"Well," growled M'Ginnis, "watch out Hermy don't end th' same way.
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