In her eyes lurked an
invitation. It reminded him of something in the eyes of the pale
daughter of the undertaker of Coal Creek. An uneasy tremor ran through
him. "What do you do about women now?" he asked.
The voice of the smaller man arose harsh and excited in the evening
air. "I get the feeling taken out of me as a man would have a tooth
fixed," he said. "I pay money for the service and keep my mind on what
I want to do. There are plenty of women for that, women who are good
for that only. When I first came here I used to wander about at night,
wanting to go to my room and work but with my mind and my will
paralysed by that feeling. I don't do that now and I won't again. What
I do many men do--good men--men who do good work. What's the use
thinking about it when you only run against a stone wall and get
hurt?"
The black bearded man arose, thrust his hands into his trousers
pockets and looked about him. Then he sat down again. He seemed to be
filled with suppressed excitement. "There is a big hidden something
going on in modern life," he said, talking rapidly and excitedly. "It
used to touch only the men higher up, now it reaches down to men like
me--barbers and workingmen. Men know about it but don't talk and don't
dare think. Their women have changed.
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