Especially dance hall women

A gold strike is likely to change a man’s viewpoint on many things ~
By Alma and Paul Ellerbe
Long Jim Briggs wandered into Al’s Dance Hall one night when “Captain Mac” was drunk and throwing things.
She had splendid deep red hair and a skin as white as blanched almonds, and he admired her extravagantly. As a child admires a Christmas tree. And differently, too—very differently. He had even given up prospecting now and then and made good money as a carpenter so that he could spend it on her. He had spent it all, and he knew her very well, but he had never seen her drunk before. He had been in such places a good deal, but he hadn’t got used to seeing women drunk. It hurt him.
He was about to wander on out again when he heard one of the other girls say:
“She’s gonna pay for this all right! Al will make ’er come acrost with the expenses of the whole damn’ place for a month for that big mirror she broke!”
Long Jim hesitated and then started toward her. She took a saucer from one of the little tables and sailed it like a clay pigeon. It curved and hit him over the eye. The blood ran down his cheek and everybody laughed. He wiped it away with his handkerchief and put his hand on her arm just as she was going to throw another saucer.
“Why, Rosie—” he said reproachfully, in his soft, rumbling bass, and stopped helplessly. His soft black eyes looked out kindly above his soft brown mustache and his great soft brown beard, and said what his tongue couldn’t find the words for.
Captain Mac was madder than she was drunk. All her sensations and her thoughts were combined in one ache, like the ache in a tooth, and she was biting upon it savagely and taking a kind of satisfaction in the keen shoots of her pain. She could have knifed Al that night out of hand and seen through stoically whatever might have come of it, but Jim Briggs’ voice and his eyes were the kind of things she had forgotten the existence of, and they slipped in under her guard and pierced the quick of her.