Part 32 (1/2)
”Everything?”
”Well, money and freedom and--and--”
”Money is the only thing I've got that you haven't, and that doesn't mean much unless you can share it with the person you love.”
”No, it doesn't, does it?” Nancy said unexpectedly. ”What's that scar on your forehead?”
”That's a scratch I got.”
”How?”
”Shaving or fighting, or something like that.”
”_Was_ it fighting, d.i.c.k?”
”Yes.”
”Who were you fighting with?”
”I wasn't fighting. I was a.s.saulting and battering.”
”Why, d.i.c.k!”
”If it's any satisfaction to you to know it I made one grand job of it.”
”Why should it be any satisfaction to me?”
”I don't know.”
”Why, d.i.c.k!” Nancy said again. ”I didn't know you had any of that kind of brutality in you.”
”Didn't you?”
”What happens to a man when he--does a thing like that?”
”He gets jugged.”
”Did he get jugged?”
”Well, that wasn't the part that interested me.”
An odd picture presented itself to Nancy's mind of the men of the world engaged in one grand melee of brawling; struggling, belaying one another with their bare fists, drawing blood; brutes turned on brutes.
”Men are queer things,” she said.
d.i.c.k's face was turned away from her. It was not at the moment a face she would have recognized. The eyes were contracted: the nostrils quivering: the teeth set.
”I'm always at your service, Nancy,” he said presently. ”Is there anything in the world you want that I can get for you?”