His legs were twisted awkwardly, sprawling across the floor in front of him; one long arm dragged down toward the floor, as if there was no strength in it to support the weight of the labor-hardened hands; his chin was fallen against his breast.
When Ronicky Doone crossed to him and laid a kind hand on his shoulder he did not look up.

"It's ended," said Bill Gregg faintly.

"Now we hit the back trail and forget all about this." He added with a faint attempt at cynicism: "I've just wasted a pile of good money-making time from the mine, that's all." "H'm!" said Ronicky Doone.

"Bill, look me in the eye and tell me, man to man, that you're a liar!" He added: "Can you ever be happy without her, man ?" The cruelty of that speech made Gregg flush and look up sharply.

This was exactly what Ronicky Doone wanted.
"I guess they ain't any use talking about that part of it," said Gregg huskily.
"Ain't there?
That's where you and me don't agree! Why, Bill, look at the way things have gone! You start out with a photograph of a girl.
Now you've followed her, found her name, tracked her clear across the continent and know her street address, and you've given her a chance to see your own face.