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Updated: June 23, 2025
He threw his head back with the ecstasy of perfect physical fitness. His laughter arose, almost hysterically. "Fectnor!" she cried, standing tense and white before him, "I think you're all brute just common, hopeless brute." He became perfectly serious; but presently he regarded her with a flicker of humor in his eyes, she thought. "You didn't say that as if you meant it, Sylvia," he declared.
"Remember, you'd better not draw until you've turned around," advised Harboro. "You'll be more likely to get your bearings right that way. You see, I want to give you an even break. If I'd wanted to murder you I could have slipped up from behind. You see that, of course." "Clear as a whistle," said Fectnor. He gave Harboro a final searching look and then turned about unflinchingly.
Among the constituents in the corrals there was often a tendency to fight, and occasionally a stubborn fellow had a clear idea that he wanted to be in a different corral from the one in which he found himself. There was needed a strong-handed henchman in these cases. Jesus Mendoza was the henchman for one faction, but the other faction needed a henchman, too. And so Fectnor came.
She examined bolt after bolt, and when at length it appeared that she was quite unwilling to be pleased she made a choice. And always she watched the street, hoping that Fectnor would pass. At last she went up the Quemado Road, walking disconsolately. The withered immensity of the world broke her spirit.
"I know that's the thing you couldn't possibly forgive, and yet that seems the slightest thing of all to me. You can't know what it is to be humbled, and so many innocent pleasures taken away from you. When Fectnor came back ... oh, it seemed to me that life itself mocked me and warned me coldly that I needn't expect to be any other than the old Sylvia, clear to the end.
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