“Yes,” she said at last, “I’ll
go. For five minutes—only in the street—in
full view of the house.”
There was a hard, deep-throated exclamation from John
Mark. He rose and glided across the room, as
if to go and vent his anger elsewhere. But he
checked and controlled himself at the door, then turned.
“You seem to have won, Doone. I congratulate
you. When he’s talking to you, Caroline,
I want you constantly to remember that—”
“Wait!” cut in Ronicky sharply. “She’ll
do her own thinking, without your help.”
John Mark bowed with a sardonic smile, but his face
was colorless. Plainly he had been hard hit.
“Later on,” he continued, “we’ll
see more of each other, I expect—a great
deal more, Doone.”
“It’s something I’ll sure wait for,”
said Ronicky savagely. “I got more than
one little thing to talk over with you, Mark.
Maybe about some of them we’ll have to do more
than talking. Good-by. Lady, I’ll
be waiting for you down by the front door of the house.”
Caroline Smith nodded, flung one frightened and appealing
glance to Ruth Tolliver for direction, then hurried
out to her room to dress. Ronicky Doone turned
back to Ruth.
“In my part of the country,” he said simply,
“they’s some gents we know sort of casual,
and some gents we have for friends. Once in a
while you bump into somebody that’s so straight
and square-shooting that you’d like to have
him for a partner. If you were out West, lady,
and if you were a man—well, I’d pick
you for a partner, because you’ve sure played
straight and square with me tonight.”
He turned, hesitated, and, facing her again, caught
up her hand, touched it to his lips, then hurried
past John Mark and through the doorway. They
could hear his rapid footfalls descending the stairs,
and John Mark was thoughtful indeed. He was watching
Ruth Tolliver, as she stared down at her hand.
When she raised her head and met the glance of the
leader she flushed slowly to the roots of her hair.
“Yes,” muttered John Mark, still thoughtfully
and half to himself, “there’s really true
steel in him. He’s done more against me
in one half hour than any other dozen men in ten years.”
Her Little Joke
A brief ten minutes of waiting beside the front door
of the house, and then Ronicky Doone heard a swift
pattering of feet on the stairs. Presently the
girl was moving very slowly toward him down the hall.
Plainly she was bitterly afraid when she came beside
him, under the dim hall light. She wore that
same black hat, turned back from her white face, and
the red flower beside it was a dull, uncertain blur.
Decidedly she was pretty enough to explain Bill Gregg’s
sorrow.
Ronicky gave her no chance to think twice. She
was in the very act of murmuring something about a
change of mind, when he opened the door and, stepping
out into the starlight, invited her with a smile and
a gesture to follow. In a moment they were in
the freshness of the night air. He took her arm,
and they passed slowly down the steps. At the
bottom she turned and looked anxiously at the house.
