I don't think he will bother
the Double A again--after he hears of it!"
But Sanderson merely smirked mirthlessly; he saw no reason for being
joyful over the lie he had told. He was getting deeper and deeper into
the mire of deceit and prevarication, and there seemed to be no escape.
And now, when he had committed himself, he realized that he might have
evaded it all, this last lie at least, by telling Mary that he had
picked the note up on the desert, or anywhere, for that matter, and she
would have been forced to believe him.
He kept her away from him, fending off her caresses with a pretense of
slight indisposition until suddenly panic-stricken over insistence, he
told her he was going to bed, bolted into the room, locked the door
behind him, and sat long in the darkness and the heat, filling the room
with a profane appreciation of himself as a double-dyed fool who could
not even lie intelligently.
CHAPTER VII
KISSES--A MAN REFUSES THEM
There was a kerosene lamp in Sanderson's room, and when, after an hour
of gloomy silence in the dark, he got up and lit the lamp, he felt
decidedly better.
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