“Well, I guess the boys were right; I am a Chinaman,” he drawled out.
At once the Girl was all sympathy.
“Oh, no you’re not, Jack!” she protested, speaking as tenderly as she dared without encouraging him.
Rance was quick to detect the change in her voice. Now he leaned over the end of the bar and said in tones that still held hope:
“Once when I rode in here it was nothing but Jack, Jack, Jack Rance. By the Eternal, I nearly got you then!”
“Did you?” The Girl was her saucy self again.
Rance ignored her manner, and went on:
“Then you went on that trip to Sacramento and Monterey and you were different.”
In spite of herself the Girl started, which Rance’s quick eye did not fail to note.