midnight
Andrew Malden was not a bad man , if he was hard . The outward vices which had ruined most men who had come to Gold City to gain the world and lose their souls , never touched him . That craving for excitement , the natural heritage of hot-headed youth , which often in that old mining camp lasted long after the passionate days of young life and lit the glazed eyes of age with a wild , unnatural fire , never seemed a part of his nature . Other men fed the fires of passion with the hot stuff of the `` Monte Carlo , '' and the midnight gaming table , till , tottering wrecks consumed of self , they lingered on the doorsteps of Gold City , the ghosts of men that were . The world of appetite was a foreign realm to him . He looked with contempt on men who lost themselves in its meshes . But he was a hard man , the people said , and selfishness and a cold heart were far worse vices in the eyes of the generous-hearted , rough miners who came and went among these hills , than what the polished , cold , calculating money-getters of the far-off city counted as sin .