eBooks Base 2000

When it was partly opened by Flip he
hastily slipped in, dragging the squaw after him, and cast one single
suspicious glance around the rude apartment which served as a
sitting-room. Flip had apparently been writing. A small inkstand was
still on the board table, but her paper had evidently been concealed
before she allowed them to enter. The squaw instantly squatted before
the adobe hearth, warmed her bundled baby, and left the ceremony of
introduction to her companion. Flip regarded the two with calm
preoccupation and indifference. The only thing that touched her
interest was the old squaw's draggled skirt and limp neckerchief. They
were Flip's own, long since abandoned and cast off in the Gin and
Ginger Woods. "Secrets again," whined Fairley, still eying Flip
furtively. "Secrets again, in course--in course--jiss so. Secrets that
must be kep from the ole man. Dark doin's by one's own flesh and blood.
Go on! go on! Don't mind me." Flip did not reply. She had even lost the
interest in her old dress. Perhaps it had only touched some note in
unison with her revery.


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