"Four. They're real buck, and a topnotch article.
Nothing better comes."

Gordon turned them over in his hand; they would,
he thought, just fit Clare; she liked pretty articles of
attire; she had not been so well lately. Clare was a
faithful sister. "Just add them to the bundle," he
directed in a lordly manner.

The clerk hesitated, and glanced toward the private
office, where Simmons' head could be seen
pinkly bald. "Do you think you'd better, Gordon?"
he asked; "the boss has been crabbed lately
about some of the old accounts, and yours has waited
as long as any. I wouldn't get nothing to catch his
eye--"

"Add the shoes to my bundle," Gordon repeated
with a narrowing gaze; "I always ask for the advice
I need."

Outside he endeavored to recall when he had last
paid anything on his account at Simmons' store.
This was the last week in June... had he paid
any in April?, in November? He was not able to
remember the occasion of his last settlement. He
must attend to that; he had other obligations, too,
small but long overdue. He cursed the fluid quality
of his wage, forever flowing through his fingers.
He must apportion his expenditures more carefully;
or, better yet, give all his money to Clare; the high-power
rifle he had purchased in Stenton the year

[[35]]

p034 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p035w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p036

v?