And she had
asked her father to give him a job. Of course, what could be simpler?
A man can manage to exist, somehow, without a job--but with two a job
is essential.
He laughed, a short, hard laugh that ended in a sneer. Well, he had
been a fool--that's all. He had served her purpose, had been the poor
dupe upon whom she had practised her wiles, a plaything, to be lightly
tossed aside for a new toy. Some day, too late perhaps, she would see
her mistake, and then she would suffer, even as he was suffering
now--but, no, to suffer one must first love, and woman had not the
capacity to love. "To hell with them!" he cried aloud. "To hell with
my tame job! And to hell with Terrace City, and with the civilization
that calls a man from the wild places and sets him to selling women
baubles to deck themselves out in."
The jack-pine shadows reached far into the clearing as Oskar fastened
on his skis and headed back along the tote-road. It was not too
late--he was only twenty-five. He, too, would live like a man, would
go into the North, and henceforth only the outlands should know him.
He would resign Monday morning. The thought caused a pang of regret at
parting with McNabb.
Darkness found him still upon the tote-road. He emerged from the
jack-pines and paused at the long smooth hill, as was his wont, to look
down upon the brilliant lights of Terrace City.
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