"Where do you come from?" he asked suddenly.
"'Frisco. I was in the chorus at the Alcazar."
"What made you go into the chorus?"
"Got tired o' life on a sheep-ranch. All work and no play. Never saw a soul. Seen plenty since."
"Got any people belonging to you?"
"Got a kind of a husband."
"A kind of a husband?"
"Yes—the kind you'd give away with a pound o' tea."
The little face, full of humourous contempt and shrewd scorn, sobered; she flung a black look round the saloon, and her eyes came back to the Colonel's face.
"I've got a girl," she said, and a sudden light flashed across her frowning as swiftly as a meteor cuts down along a darkened sky. "Four years old in June. She ain't goin' into no chorus, bet your life! She's going to have money, and scads o' things I ain't never had."