I was a hunter on a
faint trail.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE STRINGS OF DESTINY
When Phil's pal left us he went wandering down the hillside, talking to
himself. Long afterwards he told me how he felt, and I reproduce his
phrases as nearly as I can.
"Knocked 'em, I guess," he said, "with that about Jo Brackenbury. . . .
Poor Jo! Stuck together, him and me did, after she got the steel in her
heart." . . . He pulled himself together, shuddering. . . . "Went back on
me, she did, and took up with a cursed swell, and got it cold--cold. And
I? By Judas! I never was shut of that. I've known women, many of 'em, all
countries, but she was different. I expect now, after all these years,
that if I got my hand on the devil that done for her, I'd rattle his
breath in his throat. There's things that clings. She clings, Jo
Brackenbury clings, and Phil Boldrick clings; and they're gone, and I'm
left to go it alone. To play the single hand--what!--by Jiminy!"
He exclaimed thus on seeing two women approach from the direction of the
valley. He stood still, mouth open, staring. They drew near, almost
passed him.
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