“Well, I’ll be——.” But he restrained himself. “My dear, if it’s shnein, the bargain’s off.”
Gentle Annie had risen, and was scratching with the stone the glass of a picture-frame which held a gaudy chromo-lithograph.
As she did so, the digger rose, and encircled her waist with his arm.
“Well, are you satisfied?”
“Quite,” she replied, with a laugh. “It bites like a glazier’s diamond.”
“Then give me a kiss.”
The girl made a pretence of trying to get away, but quickly gave in, and turned her lips to the digger’s hawk-like face, and kissed his cheek.
“That’s right,” he said; “that’s as it should be. Mind you: I’m boss here while I stay; I’m the proprietor of the bloomin’ show. All other blokes must stop outside.”
His arm still encircled her waist, and she, regarding him through half-closed, indulgent eyes, leaned her weight against him, when a low cough startled both of them.
The door slowly opened, and upon the threshold stood a dark figure which, advancing towards the light, turned into a man, big, broad, and stern.