282
The Drums of Jeopardy
The tragic irony of it all numbed him. Fate hadn't played the game fairly. He was fifty-two, on the far side of the plateau, near sunset. It wasn't a square deal.
Still he stood there on the sidewalk, like a rock in the middle of a turbulent stream, rejecting selfish thoughts. Marry Kitty, and tell her the truth afterward. He knew the blood of her—loyalest of the loyal. He could if he chose play that sort of game—cheat her. He could not withdraw his proposition. If she accepted it he would have to carry it through. Cheat her.
