THE LUCK OF THE IRISH
She didn't know a crowd had collected until she was through."
"But she promised to play at the concert to-morrow night. I heard her."
"Ye-ah; but no bread and butter depends on to-morrow night."
"Ah, I understand. That's very unfortunate."
"Oh, I don't know. I guess she prefers to belong to herself."
"Well, it was a treat to hear her." Camden lighted a cigarette and stared ahead reflectively.
"Hong-Kong?" thought William. What kind of a job did this man work at that took him from one end of the world to the other at a moment's notice? William still doddered; did he like or dislike Camden? Twelve days had passed since the first friction, and yet he could not decide. Never before had he met a man he could neither like nor dislike, and it bothered him. He was honest enough to admit that he wanted to dislike Camden, but could not find any justifiable reasons.
Two or three times he had essayed to broach the subject to his school-teacher, to ascertain her opinion of the man, but something had always intervened. Camden had not made the slightest attempt to flirt with her, and he had proved elsewhere that he was not above such pastime. Up to the present time his manner had been irreproachable. William put aside these thoughts abruptly. He wasn't getting anywhere. And in a day or so his path and Camden's would deviate indefinitely.
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