Pierre went to her
door and knocked. He carried under his arm a package which he had
secured in the General Merchandise Store of Morgantown.
"We're all waiting for you at the table," he explained.
"Just keep on waiting," said the husky voice of Jacqueline.
"I've brought you a present."
"I hate your presents!"
"It's a thing you've wanted for a long time, Jacqueline."
Only a stubborn silence.
"I'm putting your door a little ajar."
"If you dare to come in I'll--"
"And I'm leaving the package right here at the entrance. I'm so sorry,
Jacqueline, that you hate me."
And then he walked off down the hall--cunning Pierre--before she could
send her answer like an arrow after him. At the table he arranged an
eighth plate and drew up a chair before it. "If that's for Jack,"
remarked Dick Wilbur, "you're wasting your time. I know her and I know
her type. She'll never come out to the table tonight--nor tomorrow,
either. I know!"
In fact, he knew a good deal too much about girls and women also, did
Wilbur, and that was why he rode the long trails of the
mountain-desert with Boone and his men.
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