"They are exceptions, I have no doubt, sir."
"Yes, a notion like that ortn't keep a man from marryin'. He ort to marry young, and stay married, even if he has to do it over a couple of times."
"I'm not skeptical on the subject of marriage, or of the fidelity of the ladies, sir. I was merely remarkin'. What became of Zebedee, or what did he do to occasion the divorce?"
"Zebedee he went down to the Nation about three years ago to look around. He never come back, and he never wrote. Malvina got tired of dependin' on him to let her hear whe'er he was livin' or dead or married to a squaw, and she got her bill. Can't blame Malvina, she always had to make the livin' anyhow, and she's a real purty little chunk of a woman, but I never did agree that her red hair matched that green paint on the hotel."
So, with the history of Malvina Smith like an open book in his hand, Texas left Uncle Boley for the night. His first thought was to seek a store and buy himself a coat, for he was reluctant to appear before even the red-haired holder of the only divorce paper in Cottonwood in his shirt-sleeves. Shirt-sleeves were well enough for business hours, but out of business hours a gentleman ought to have a coat. That was the opinion of Texas, and all the usages in the world to the contrary could not have bent him from it an inch.
