he taste out of my mouth.

I think it was in March that Barney came back; but he came back an engaged
young man, so that in less than a week Barney began to pall. His fiancee
had got him to swear off on poker and prize-fighting and smokers and
everything. And I leave it to you if there would be much left of a fellow
like Barney. All he was free to do--or wanted to do--was sit in a retired
corner of the club with _Shasta_ water and cigarettes for refreshments,
and talk about Her, and how It had happened, and the pangs of uncertainty
that shot through his heart till he knew for sure. Barney's full as tall
as I am, and he weighs twenty-five pounds more; and to hear a great,
hulking brute like that talking slush was enough to make a man forswear
love in all forms forever. He'd show me her picture regular, every time
I met him, and expect me to hand out a jolly. She wasn't so much, either.
Her nose was crooked, and she didn't appear to have any eyebrows to speak
of. I'd like to have him see--well, a certain young woman with eyelashes
and--Oh, well, it wasn't Barney's fault that he'd never seen a real
beauty, and so was satisfied with his particular Her. I began to shy at
Barney, and avoided him as systematically as if I owed him money; which
I didn't. I just couldn't stand for so much monologue with a girl with no
eyebrows and a crooked nose for the never-failing subject.

My next unaccountable notion was manifested in an unreasoning dislike of
Rankin. He got to going to some mission-meetings, somewhere down near the
Barbary Coast; I got out of him that much, and that he sometimes led the
meetings. Rankin can't lie--or won't--so he said right out that he was
doing what little he could to save precious souls. That part was all
right, of course; but he was so beastly solemn and sanctimonious that he
came near sending my soul--maybe it isn't as precious as those he was
laboring with--straight to the bad place.

Every morning when he appeared like the ghost of a Puritan ancestor's
remorse at my bedside, I swore I'd send him off before night. To look at
him you'd think I had done a murder and he was an eye-witness to the deed.
Still, it's pretty raw to send a man off just because he's the embodiment
of punctiliousness and looks virtuously grieved for your sins. In his
general demeanor, I admit that Rankin was quite irreproachable--and that's
why I hated him so.

Besides, Montana had spoiled me for wanting to be dressed like a b