I am convinced that he is aware of my feeling, for he stayed but a
few moments, said nothing but what another man might have said half
as well, and pretending that he had an engagement went away. I
learned to-day (a little bird told me--the bell bird) that he went
straight to bed. How does that strike you as evidence of exemplary
habits?


July 17th.

That little wretch, Raynor, called yesterday, and his babble set me
almost wild. He never runs down--that is to say, when he
exterminates a score of reputations, more or less, he does not
pause between one reputation and the next. (By the way, he
inquired about you, and his manifestations of interest in you had,
I confess, a good deal of vraisemblance.)

Mr. Raynor observes no game laws; like Death (which he would
inflict if slander were fatal) he has all seasons for his own. But
I like him, for we knew one another at Redhorse when we were young
and true-hearted and barefooted. He was known in those far fair
days as "Giggles," and I--O Irene, can you ever forgive me?--I was
called "Gunny." God knows why; perhaps in allusion to the material
of my pinafores; perhaps because the name is in alliteration with
"Giggles," for Gig and I were inseparable playmates, and the miners
may have thought it a delicate compliment to recognize some kind of
relationship between us.

Later, we took in a third--another of Adversity's brood, who, like