"
She looked up at him sharply for a moment, opened her lips to ask
a question, and then thought better of it.
"Oh, here's your handkerchief," she said quietly, taking it from
the bottom of her wastebasket. "As you say, the thing is
settled. I'm going to turn you out now. The four-thirty-five is
due pretty soon--and I have oodles of work."
He looked at her strangely, and went away, wondering why Miss
Georgie hated so to have him in the office lately.
On the next day, at ten o'clock, they buried Saunders on a
certain little knoll among the sagebrush; buried him without much
ceremony, it is true, but with more respect than he had received
when he was alive and shambling sneakily among them. Good Indian
was there, saying little and listening attentively to the
comments made upon the subject, and when the last bit of yellow
gravel had been spatted into place he rode down through the
Indian camp on his way home, thankful that everyone seemed to
accept the verdict of suicide as being final, and anxious that
Rachel should know it.
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