They sat down, McClintock reaching for a lump of sugar which he began munching. The emerald wings, slashed with scarlet and yellow, wheeling and swooping about her head, there among the wild plantain. To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt. “For men have reason, women rhyme A man scores always, all the time. Of this I'm certain, however, she was much too good for him, and was never meant to be a journeyman carpenter's wife, still less what is she now. Of course that was what she had to do; she had to find a cheap room for herself and work! This Room No. ’ ‘I’m that sorry, miss,’ Kimble said glumly. That was the wonder of these stories; one lived in them. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat.
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