.. a nice quiet fellow though ... won't disturb you."
The thought of another visitor did disturb me. Though I knew Pete
Willets as a quiet, gentle shoemaker in whom seemed no guile, I wanted
to be alone to think and read and write.
Wednesday noon Pete Willets drove up, accompanied by a grubby Woman whom
at first glance I did not relish.
"Hello, Johnnie, Frank said we could use the shack for a day or two."
"Forever, as far as I'm concerned," I answered, beginning to tie up my
books in a huge bundle as big as a peddler's pack, and as heavy.
Impatiently tying the horse to a post, they were in the shack and
immediately prone on my bunk.
As I shouldered my load their murmuring voices full of amorous desire
stung me like a gadfly. I hurried off toward Laurel, angry at life.
I explained to Randall why I had left his camp so soon. He was gravely
concerned.
"I didn't tell Willets he could have my shack to take Gracie there. This
is a bit too thick."
"Who's Gracie?"
"--a bad lot ... a girl that's been on the turf since she was in knee
skirts--as long as I've known her. He loves her. She can twist him
around her little finger. She's going to get him into something bad some
day. He'll do anything she wants. And she's capable of putting him up to
anything."
"Willets is weak, when it comes to women ... don't drink much ... a hard
worker .
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