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Updated: June 18, 2025
At the tense dramatic moment of the trial a frightened hush fell upon the court room and that evening in their houses men turned instinctively from the reading of the papers to look at their beloved sitting about them. A chill of fear ran over the bodies of women. For a moment Beaut McGregor had given them a peep under the crust of civilisation that awoke an age- old trembling in their hearts.
And now he has shown it to you and I suppose told lies about me." Beaut was annoyed and wished he had not mentioned the ring. He felt that an unnecessary fuss was being made about it. He did not believe that the black-haired boy had lied but he did not think it mattered. He began talking of his father, boasting of him. His hatred of the town blazed up.
"No, I should say not," he replied, as I thought with gentle consideration of her to whom he was speaking; "I don't think I could ever trust a wife who was a ten-thousand-dollar beaut'. She'd want to gad too much. I don't think looks count for much; and I'd think she was pretty, anyway, if I was terrible stuck on her. Them things don't make much difference only in story-papers.
They reached even into the miner's cabin and the merchants along Main Street of Coal Creek stood before their stores in the afternoon and talked of the doings of the world. Beaut McGregor knew that life in his town was exceptional, that not everywhere did men toil all day black and grimy underground, that not all women were pale bloodless and bent.
She said to herself rebelliously, "I've expended enough personality and energy on this performance to play a Beethoven sonata at a concert," and found she was quoting something Vincent Marsh had said about her life, the day before. There was a moment while the joke slowly penetrated to Mark's six-year-old brain. And then he laughed out, delightedly, "Oh, Mother, that's a beaut! Sing it again.
Wasn't that youngest one a beaut? If ever I get a furlough, I'm going to look her up." "And be a fool for your pains! Look here, you do have sense enough to put up a good fight in the air. But on the ground, the real earth, you're becoming a fool."
I am going to tell him? Wallie shady!" "You know perfectly well, Jack Kimball, I said shade in color." "Oh, yes. Color blind. Poor, afflicted Wallie. I have often wondered about his neckties. But doesn't Laurel take to him? And isn't she a beaut in that bag?" "Bag! My best kimono! Look what teeth she has when she laughs." "And you not jealous?
"They thought he was crazy and he was," she said; "but what made him so the rotten timbers in the mine that broke and crushed him. You and not they are responsible for my man and what he was." Beaut McGregor interrupted. "Well I think he is right," he declared, leaning over the counter beside his mother and looking into her face.
"Well, what do you think of it?" asked Jack of Tom, as the two came out of the gymnasium, glowing from a rub and shower. "Oh, it seemed to go all right." "Heller try any mean tricks?" asked Bert. "I thought he did, but maybe I was mistaken. Oh, but I got one beaut kick on the shin," and Tom gently massaged the leg in question. "Some lad tried to gouge out one of my eyes," added Bert.
"Peeved, all right. I'll have to be extra-nice to her for a day or so until she calms down," he murmured to himself. "Must send her a box of chocolates and some magazines to-morrow to show my contrite heart; that always gets 'em. Hang it, it's time to fix a day, too. We've been engaged long enough. She sure has a figure and face a beaut! I guess she didn't smell the booze on my breath.
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