"Oh; the plain-faced little ranch girl among them, I suppose?"
"No; thank God, she is out of it entirely—in the way you mean," he broke out fervently.
"You mean that you haven't spoken to her—yet?"
"Of course I haven't. Do you suppose I would ask any woman to marry me with the shadow of the penitentiary hanging over me?"
"But you are not really guilty."
"That doesn't make any difference: Watrous Dunham will see to it that I get what he has planned to give me."
She was tapping an impatient tattoo on the carpet with one shapely foot.
"Why don't you turn this new leaf of yours back and go home and fight it out with Watrous Dunham, once for all?" she suggested.
"I shall probably go, fast enough, when Macauley or one of his deputies gets here with the extradition papers," he returned. "But as to fighting Dunham, without money——"
She looked up quickly, and this time there was no mistaking the meaning of the glow in the magnificent brown eyes.