“Very likely,” he answered. . “Do you know that boy very well, Shar?” Cathy Beck yelled in the general direction of the lavatory. “Do you think you’ll ever get married, Lucy?” Lucy shifted uncomfortably as she pulled her makeshift nightgown—an old T-shirt—over her head. Valade, who was standing by her chair, glancing around the packed pink-papered saloon with a heavy frown on his face, was a thickset man of coarse, reddened feature, with a discontented air. “Why would she do that? Why does she care? That’s a waste of her time. But, as you perceive, I brought it away with me.
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