This in itself was enough to bespeak his sympathy. Not
that she valued it;--she rather sniffed at it.
"I wish Jack wouldn't stand with his hat off until I get aboard
the train," she had told Garry one day shortly after their
arrival--"he makes me so conspicuous. And he wears such queer
clothes. He was in his slouch hat and rough flannel shirt and high
boots the other day and looked like a tramp."
"Better not laugh at Jack, Cory," Garry had replied; "you'll be
taking your own hat off to him one of these days; we all shall.
Arthur Breen missed it when he let him go. Jack's queer about some
things, but he's a thoroughbred and he's got brains!"
"He insulted Mr. Breen in his own house, that's why he let him
go," snapped Corinne. The idea of her ever taking off her hat,
even figuratively, to John Breen, was not to be brooked,--not for
an instant.
"Yes, that's one way of looking at it, Cory, but I tell you if
Arthur Breen had had Jack with him these last few months--ever
since he left him, in fact,--and had listened once in a while to
what Jack thought was fair and square, the firm of A.
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