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Updated: May 31, 2025
"No doubt they think I'm just like the dance-hall girls. I've seen a few of them at a distance. They avoid me as if I had measles." "Naturally. Do you care?" "Certainly I care. I'd like to be one of them, not a a specimen. Wouldn't you?" "Um-m, perhaps. I dare say I could be one of them if it weren't for Courteau. People forget things quickly in a new country." "Why did you take him back?
What would his people think? And the Countess Courteau? Well, it would teach her that a man's heart was not a football; that a man's love was not to be juggled with. He had made a gesture of splendid recklessness; he would take the consequences.
If there's anything in good liquor and a good name she'll be a lucky ship." When they were out of hearing the Countess Courteau repeated: "I don't understand it. They could have gained a week." "We could, too, if we'd built one scow instead of those small boats," Pierce declared.
"I'd hate to take your trail, that's a fact, but I'd have to do it. However, that would be a poor way to help Pierce. If he's really innocent, Courteau will have a hard job to convict him. I suggest that you let matters rest as they are for a day or so. We'll treat the kid all right."
Another conquest, eh?" "Have it as you will. "I won't go," Hilda cried, furiously. She freed herself from his arms. "You know I won't go. You'd like to parade me in the places you frequent saloons, dance-halls, gambling-houses. The idea!" "You won't? Tut, tut! What is this?" Courteau cried, angrily. "Rebellious so soon? Is this recent change of demeanor assumed? Have you been fooling me?"
As they breasted the swirling snowflakes Doret told himself that, pending Sam Kirby's return to sanity, this sick girl needed a woman's care quite as much as a doctor's; naturally his thoughts turned to the Countess Courteau.
He asked himself what kind of man Count Courteau could be; he wondered if he, Pierce Phillips, could fall in love with such a woman as this, an older woman, a woman who had been married. It would be queer to marry a countess, he reflected.
Yes, the Countess Courteau was heartless, wicked, cruel. Her unsuspected selfishness, her lack of genuine sentiment, her cool, calculating caution, were shocking. Pierce had utterly misread her at first; that was plain. That he was really hurt, deeply distressed, sorely aggrieved, was true enough, for his love infatuation, if you will was perfectly genuine and exceedingly vital.
She's stuck on Phillips, like I told you, and she's trying to get a peek at your hole card." It was characteristic of Courteau that he should take instant offense at this reflection upon his sagacity, this doubt of his ability as a charmer. "You insult my intelligence," he cried, stiffly, "and, above all, I possess intelligence. You do not. No. You are coarse, you are gross.
He and the McCaskeys were not the closest of friends, in spite of the fact that they had done him a favor a favor, by the way. for which he had paid many times over nevertheless, they were his most intimate acquaintances and he felt an urgent desire to tell them about his unusual experience. His desire to talk about the Countess Courteau was irresistible.
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