Oakhurst (declining his hand). Do you understand me, Sandy Morton?
Listen. I am John Oakhurst,--the man who has deceived your father,
who has deceived you.

Sandy (without heeding his words, but regarding him affectionately).
To think of it--Jack Oakhurst! It's like him, like Jack. He was
allers onsartain, the darned little cuss! Jack! Look at him, will
ye, boys? look at him! Growed too, and dressed to kill, and sittin'
in this yer house as natril as a jaybird! (Looking around.) Nasty,
ain't it, Jack? and this yer's your house--the old man's house--eh?
Why, this is--this is where she came. Jack, Jack! (Eagerly.) Tell
me, pard, where is she?

Starbottle (aside, rubbing his hands). We shall have it now!

Oakhurst. She has gone,--gone! But hear me. She had deceived you
as she has me. She has gone,--gone with her first husband, Henry
Pritchard.

Sandy (stupefied). Gone! Her first husband! Pritchard!

Oakhurst. Ay, your wife!

Sandy. Oh, damn my wife! I'm talking of Mary,--Miss Mary,--the
little schoolma'am, Jack; the little rose of Poker Flat. Oh! I
see--ye didn't know her, Jack,--the pertiest, sweetest little--

Oakhurst (turning away coldly). Ay, ay! She is here!