Miss Georgie told them silently in
the meager little office, and sighed as they slipped from under
her white, nervous fingers. One--nothing happened that could be
said to bear upon the one big subject in her mind, the routine
work of passing trains and dribbling business in the express and
freight departments, and a long afternoon of heat and silence
save for the asthmatic pump, fifty yards down the main track.
Two--this exactly like the first, except that those inseparables,
Hagar, Viney, and Lucy, whom Miss Georgie had inelegantly dubbed
"the Three Greases," appeared, silent, blanket-enshrouded, and
perspiring, at the office door in mid-afternoon. Half a box of
soggy chocolates which the heat had rendered a dismally sticky
mass won from them smiles and half-intelligible speech. Fishing
was poor--no ketchum. Three--not even the diversion of the
squaws to make her forget the dragging hours.
Nothing--nothing--nothing, she told herself apathetically when
that third day had slipped upon the black cord of a soft, warm
night, star-sprinkled and unutterably lonely as it brooded over
the desert.
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