quiet these things look, the other way round.

You remember the Cuban Land frauds in New York and Porforio Gomez
shooting the detective, and him and Maximo Morez getting clear away
with two hundred thousand? No, of course you don't; why, even in the
city papers it only filled an inch or two of type, and anyway the
names were hard to remember. That was Jeff's money--part of it.
Mullins got the telegram, from a broker or someone, and he showed it
to Jeff just as he was going up the street with an estate agent to
look at a big empty lot on the hill behind the town--the very place
for these incurables.

And Jeff went back to the shop so quiet--have you ever seen an animal
that is stricken through, how quiet it seems to move?

Well, that's how he walked.

And since that, though it's quite a little while ago, the shop's open
till eleven every night now, and Jeff is shaving away to pay back
that five hundred that Johnson, the livery man, sent to the Cubans,
and--

Pathetic? tut! tut! You don't know Mariposa. Jeff has to work pretty
late, but that's nothing--nothing at all, if you've worked hard all
your lifetime. And Myra is back at the Telephone Exchange--they were
glad enough to get her, and she says now that if there's one thing
she hates, it's the stage, and she can't see how the actresses put up
with it.

Anyway, things are not so bad. You see it was just at this time that