She hated
Ransom for breaking in; she despised Philip for allowing the
interruption to tear away her triumph. Her own betrayal of herself
was like tonic to Philip. He laughed joyously when he was alone
out in the cool night air. Ransom never knew why Philip hunted him
out and shook his fat hand so warmly at parting.
Philip again felt himself in the fever of that night as he turned
from the rock and began picking his way down the side of the ridge
toward the Bay. He found himself wondering what had become of
good-natured, dense-headed Ransom, who had all he could do to
spend his father's allowance. From Ransom his thoughts turned to
little Harry Dell, Roscoe, big Dan Philips, and three or four
others who had sacrificed their hearts at Miss Brokaw's feet. He
grimaced as he thought of young Dell, who had worshiped the ground
she walked on, and who had gone straight to the devil when she
threw him over. He wondered, too, where Roscoe was. He knew that
Roscoe would have won out if it had not been for the financial
crash which took his brokerage firm off its feet and left him a
pauper. He had heard that Roscoe had gone up into British Columbia
to recuperate his fortune in Douglas fir. As for big Dan--
Philip stumbled over a rock, and rose with a bruised knee.
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