For answer the Girl burst out into a peal of laughter. It was forced, and the man knew it.
“I suppose he’s one o’ them high-toned, Sacramento shrimps!” he burst out gruffly; then he added meaningly: “Do you think he’d have you?”
At those words a wondering look shone in the Girl’s eyes, and she asked in all seriousness:
“What’s the matter with me? Is there anythin’ ’bout me a high-toned gent would object to?” And then as the full force of the insult was borne in upon her she stepped out from behind the bar, and demanded: “Look here, Jack Rance, ain’t I always been a perfect lady?”
Rance laughed discordantly.
“Oh, heaven knows your character’s all right!” And so saying he seated himself again at the table.
The girl flared up still more at this; she retorted:
“Well, that ain’t your fault, Jack Rance!” But the words were hardly out of her mouth than she regretted having spoken them. She waited a moment, and then as he did not speak she murmured an “Adios, Jack,” and took up her position behind the bar where, if Rance had been looking, he would have seen her start on hearing a voice in the next room and fix her eyes in a sort of fascinated wonder, on a man who, after parting the pelt curtain, came into the saloon with just a suggestion of swagger in his bearing.
VII
“Where’s the man who wanted to curl my hair?”