But if they refuse
to be repaired at your mere word, and you think something more
substantial is needed, then come to me--perhaps I may help you."
She bowed mockingly and vanished into the other room, closing the door
behind her, leaving Calumet glaring into his plate.
For a moment there was a painful silence, which Malcolm broke by
clearing his throat, his gaze on the tablecloth.
"Sometimes I think Betty's a little fresh," he said, apologetically.
"She's sorta sudden-like. She hadn't ought to--"
He looked up to see a malevolent scowl on Calumet's face, and he ducked
by the narrowest of margins the heavy plate that flew from Calumet's
hand. The plate struck the wall and was shattered to atoms. Malcolm
crouched, in deadly fear of other missiles, but Calumet did not deign
to notice him further, stalking out of the room and slamming the door
behind him.
CHAPTER VI
"BOB"
Five minutes after leaving the kitchen of the ranchhouse Calumet stood
beside the rotted rails of the corral fence near the stable, frowning,
fully conscious that he had been worsted in the verbal battle just
ended. He was filled with a disagreeable sense of impotence; he felt
small, mean, cheap, and uncomfortable, and was oppressed with
indecision. In short, he felt that he was not the same man who had
ridden up to the Lazy Y ranchhouse at twilight the night before--in
twelve hours a change had come over him.
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