"I knew my business, of course. Heavens! what a soft job that was
compared to what I've tackled out here!"
"It might be possible to find another such job in California. You
never thought of that?"
Jim's face brightened.
"Never," he declared. "Fresh air and exercise was the prescription--
and I'm fed up on both. If I could get a billet as clerk in San
Lorenzo, if----" He clenched his fists, unable to articulate another
word, then, very slowly, he went on: "Boys, I'd give my life to get
Angela away from Paradise."
"We'll help you," said Ajax.
"Mrs. Misterton would be much happier in San Lorenzo," I added.
Jim flushed scarlet.
"Angela married the wrong man," he said deliberately.
Ajax interrupted.
"Jim, fill your pipe!"
He held out his pouch, which Jim waved aside.
"She married the wrong man," he repeated, "and that is what is keeping
me awake nights. She'd have been happy with Thorpe. He could have
given her all the little things women value."
"And how about the great things?"
"The little things are great things--to her. Good-night, boys." We
shook hands and he went to the door.
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