Some one had once, in his hearing, called him a prig. “I am fairly well known here. "Why you pretended not to recognize the photograph of the young fellow you toted around these diggings all day yesterday. Spurlock. I trust you will not accuse me of discourtesy if I express my pleasure that henceforth our ways will lie apart. " He drew down the lamp and blew it out, and followed her into the night, more lovely than he had ever imagined night to be. He was really very proud of her, and extraordinarily angry and resentful at the innocent and audacious selfreliance that seemed to intimate her sense of absolute independence of him, her absolute security without him.
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