"Do you mean it?" he demanded. "Well, I guess you must or you wouldn't give me a kiss like that. Say, you think a lot of me, now don't you, Little Spitfire? I believe you'd go through hell for me."
"No, I wouldn't," she replied. "That's just where I draw the line—because you'd be going through hell, too. You're a good man, Rimrock—you've got a good heart—but you're a drunken, fighting brute."
"Hmm!" shrilled Rimrock, "say, that don't sound very nice after what you said a minute ago."
"We're talking reason, now," said Mary, smiling wanly, "I was excited a minute ago."
"Well, get excited again," suggested Rimrock, but she pushed his hands away.
"No," she said, "I kissed you once because—well, because I liked you and—and to show that I forgive what you've done. But a woman must consider what love might mean and I'll never marry a drunkard. I know women who have and they all regretted it—it took all the sweetness out of life. A woman expects so much—so much of tenderness and sympathy and gentleness and consideration—and a drunken man is a brute. You know it, because you've been there; and, oh, you don't know how I'd hate you if you ever came back to me drunk! I'd leave you—I'd never consent for a minute to so much as touch your hand—and so it's better just to be friends."
She sighed and hurried on to a subject less unpleasant.
"Now, there's the matter of that claim. You know I hold title to the Old Juan and it gives me control of the mine. Even Stoddard acknowledges it, although he'll try to get around it; and if we press him he'll take it to the courts. But now listen, Rimrock, this is a matter of importance and I want you to help me out. I want you to attend to getting my discovery work before the ninety days has expired. Then we'll draw up a complete and careful agreement of just what we want at the mine and Whitney H. Stoddard, if I know anything about him, will be only too glad to sign it. I told him before I left him that this chicanery must cease and that you must be given back your mine. I told him you must run it, and that Jepson must be fired—but Rimrock, there's one thing more."
"What's that?" enquired Rimrock rousing up from his abstraction and she smiled and patted his hand.
"You mustn't fight him," she suggested coaxingly. "It interferes with the work."