He watched her narrowly, and continued:
“You ought to get into a game that has some ginger in it. This here life is too tame for a girl like you.”
Without looking at him she asked:
“What kind of a game?” Her voice was lifeless, guttural.
“It’s agin my principles to empty my sack to a woman; but you’re diff’rent—you’re game—you are, Susie.” His voice dropped to a whisper, and the weight of his hand made her shoulder sag. “Let’s you and me rustle a bunch of horses.”
Susie did not betray surprise at the startling proposition by so much as the twitching of an eyelid.
“What for?”
Smith replied:
“Just for the hell of it!”
She grunted, but neither in assent nor dissent; so Smith went on in an eager, persuasive whisper: