"Oh, cut it out—cut it out!" rasped Lucius. "Beat it! Go home, all of you! Gosh a'mighty, can't a feller lick his own wife without—Here! Leggo my arm! What in thunder are you tryin' to do, Lou Banks?"
"I'm going to take you over to my house and put your feet in a hot mustard bath, and—"
"No, you ain't! Leggo, I say! Fer the Lord's sake, Officer, chase 'em away!"
"Move on, now—move on, all of you," commanded the Marshal, waving the revolver in lieu of his well-known night-stick. "What you got to say to me, Lucius?" he asked as the women fell back.
"Do you think they c'n hear?"
"Not unless you whisper loudern' that."
"Well, say, I want you to do me a favour. I want you to take me up to the jail an' lock me in."
"You—you want to be locked in?"
"I don't care whether you put it that way er to lock all these fool women out. It's all the same to me. I ain't had a minute's peace for nearly two months. I—"
"Why don't you go in your own house an' stay there?" demanded Anderson.