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ABNER TEEFTALLOW turned back toward the dark business street of Iron town hopeless of ever seeing Nessie Sutton again. When the train had borne her away it was as if she had entered the tomb. He moved slowly back up the hill, robbed of any further purpose in Irontown, or indeed in life itself.

When he reached the garage, habit caused him to gravitate toward the faintly lighted place, but in his mood a thought of its obscene life caused him to veer slowly away. He did not want to speak to any one, he did not want to see any one; he wanted merely to get away from Irontown, which was redolent of Nessie's presence, like some dirty box still fragrant of flowers that are gone.

A thought crossed his mind that now was the time when he ought to go drink himself into stupefaction, but alcohol was not habitual to him and this thought was a mere intellectual moment and lacked all executive force. Then he considered the notion of going to a crap game, or to a bawdy house and spending the night, but all of these distractions were uniformly repulsive. Finally he decided to go back to the railroad camp and his work. He could walk the sixteen miles in four or five hours. He would get into camp sufficiently tired to sleep. The next day he could work himself to weariness again, and so on and on; each day a laborious avoidance of the thought of Nessie Sutton.

As the teamster passed the garage a voice hailed him from the dark building. Abner almost replied, but knew that he would be called back and talked to, so he continued on his way in silence.

The voice lifted in menace.