“You certainly are not drunk,” she replied.  “You’re just—­”

“Crazy,” interrupted Ruby.

They laughed.

“Maybe I do have queer impulses,” replied Neale, as he felt his face grow white.  “Every once in a while I see a flash—­of—­of I don’t know what. I could do something big—­even—­now—­if my heart wasn’t dead.”

“Mine’s in its grave,” said Ruby, bitterly.  “Come, Stanton, let’s get out of this.  Find me men who talk of drink and women.”

Neale deliberately reached out and stopped her as she turned away.  He faced her.

“You’re no four-flush,” he said.  “You’re game.  You mean to play this out to a finish....  But you’re no—­no maggot like the most.  You can think.  You’re afraid to talk to me.”

“I’m afraid of no man.  But you—­you’re a fool—­a sky-pilot.  You’re—­”

“The thing is—­it’s not too late.”

“It is too late!” she cried, with trembling lips.

Neale saw and felt his dominance over her.

“It is never too late!” he responded, with all his force.  “I can prove that.”

She looked at him mutely.  The ghost of another girl stood there instead of the wild Ruby of Benton.

“Pard, you’re drunk shore!” ejaculated Larry, as he towered over them and gave his belt a hitch.  The cowboy sensed events.

“I’ve annoyed you more than once,” said Neale.  “This’s the last....  So tell me the truth....  Could I take you away from this life?”

“Take me? ...  How—­man?”

“I—­I don’t know.  But somehow....  I’d hold it—­as worthy—­to save a girl like you—­any girl—­from hell.”

“But—­how?” she faltered.  The bitterness, the irony, the wrong done by her life, was not manifest now.

“You refused my plan with Larry. ...  Come, let me find a home for you—­with good people.”

“My God—­he’s not in earnest!” gasped the girl to her women friends.

“I am in earnest,” said Neale.

Then the tension of the girl relaxed.  Her face showed a rebirth of soul.

“I can’t accept,” she replied.  If she thanked him it was with a look.  Assuredly her eyes had never before held that gaze for Neale.  Then she left the room, and presently Stanton’s companion followed her.  But Beauty Stanton remained.  She appeared amazed, even dismayed.

Larry lighted his cigarette.  “Shore I’d call thet a square kid,” he said.  “Neale, if you get any drunker you’ll lose all thet money.”

“I’ll lose it anyhow,” replied Neale, absent-mindedly.

“Wal, stake me right heah an’ now.”

At that Neale generously and still absent-mindedly delivered to Larry a handful of gold and notes that he did not count.

“Hell!  I ain’t no bank,” protested the cowboy.

Hough and Ancliffe joined them and with amusement watched Larry try to find pockets enough for his small fortune.

“Easy come, easy go in Benton,” said the gambler, with a smile.  Then his glance, alighting upon the quiet Stanton, grew a little puzzled.  “Beauty, what ails you?” he asked.