"You ought to sing to a congregation instead of to cows, Buck. You have the
tune, and you might get by in a church; but cows have sense."
"Kate will buckle and bend and fade for a while," went on Buck, wholly
unperturbed, "but just when you go out to pick daisies for her you'll come
back and find her singing to the stove. Her strength is down deep, like
some of these outlaw hosses that got a filmy, sleepy lookin' eye. They save
their hell till you sink the spurs in 'em. You think she loves Dan, don't
you?"
"I have a faint suspicion of it," sneered Haines. "I suppose I'm wrong?"
"You are."
"Buck, I may have slipped a nickel into you, but you're playing the wrong
tune. Knock off and talk sense, will you?"
"When you grow up, son, you'll understand some of the things I'm tryin' to
explain in words of one syllable.
"She don't love Dan. She thinks she does, but down deep they ain't a damned
thing in the world she gives a rap about exceptin' Joan. Men? What are they
to her? Marriage? That's simply an accident that's needed so she can have a
baby.
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