So run along nowand play with your horse, and dont
bother me. So make up your mind to it, and sit down. I dontlike his silly sheeps
face, and Ive no use for jockeys, anyway.
Hogan scratches a match on the seat of his overalls
andlights his pipe, pretending not to see him.
I know youre only trying to makegame of me. His
arms are short and muscular, with large hairy hands. You were only a little thing
when she died. And if there was an offer, Jims refused it, and that ends it. It must
be a big help toyou, conversing with whores and barkeeps.
Hes done a lot of mad things, when he was that way,
he wassorry for after.
Hes said he isnt here,anyway, so we wont talk to
him behind his back.
They spent somuch time confessing their sins, they
had no chance to do anysinning.
Then it must be the air itself smells of
whiskeytoday, although I didnt notice it before you came. He said he told the agent
to tellwhoever it was the place wasnt for sale. They was begging for mercybefore you
came.
The agent got an offer last month, Jimtold me,
bigger than mine. But, like you, I find it hard to believe. Hewears heavy brogans,
filthy overalls, and a dirty short-sleevedundershirt. His voice is high-pitched with
a pronouncedbrogue. Ill bet if you asked his horse, youd find hes nocowboy
either.
Ill keep thinking it over, and you dothe same.
Harder likes to keep up the good oldmanorial customs. Then it must be the air itself
smells of whiskeytoday, although I didnt notice it before you came.
Sure, all I wanted was to give himthe fun of seeing
through them so he couldnt be hard-hearted. They spent somuch time confessing their
sins, they had no chance to do anysinning.
Its the memory of his mother comes back and his
grief for herdeath.
I was telling you I could seethe merit in your
marrying him.
On his headis an old wide-brimmed hat of coarse
straw that would look morebecoming on a horse. Now weve come to the truth behind all
yourblather of my liking him or him liking me. Its the thoughtof that pious lump
having my money that maddens me. Sure, all I wanted was to give himthe fun of seeing
through them so he couldnt be hard-hearted. Sure, the English cantlive unless they
have a lords backside to kiss, the dirty slaves. And the dirty tick accused you and
me of making upa foxy scheme to trap Jim.
On his headis an old wide-brimmed hat of coarse
straw that would look morebecoming on a horse. Ill bet hes in your room under the
bed,the cowardly lump!
Youll ruin my reputation, if you spread that lie
aboutme. And you keep yourmad scheming to yourself.
Go get the bottle and onesmall glass, or hell never
stop nagging me.
If Harder sees you here, hell lay the wholeblame on
you.