She got no further. The great eyes, the plaintive tremulo, the threatened tears, all the old tricks after what he had just seen, struck Jack as too funny! His laughter broke its bonds. He threw back his head, and gave it way. There was nothing mocking or bitter in it; it was pure laughter from the relief of his heart. He laughed and laughed. He had had no laughter in weeks. He was obliged to lean against the window-frame and hold his ribs as at a vulgar farce.
Linda's expression graduated from amazement to pale fury. She sprang up. The jewelled aigrette fairly bristled with rage. "How dare you!" she cried. "Shut up! I hate you! You make me feel like a perfect fiend! I'd like to scratch your eyes out! Go back to your squaw! It's all you're fit for. I was going to speak to you myself. Understand, I'm throwing you over! I despise you!" She stamped her foot. "Go back to her, and be damned to you both!"
She vanished. Such was the end of that affair.
Jack went in search of Kate, and found her on a man's arm bound supperward. "Could I have a word with you urgent and private?" he whispered.
Kate looked at his happy eyes and nodded. "Front balcony, five minutes," she murmured back.
The balcony again.
"Kate, I'm off!" he cried. "This very night. In an hour I'll be pounding the North trail on Starlight. I'm so happy I can't keep the ground. If the boats have stopped running, I'll ride the whole way through. Kate, dear, you've been a powerful good friend to me. I'd like to kiss you good-bye."
"You may," she said, smiling and lifting her face.
"There!" he said. "There! and there! and there!"
"Mercy!" said Kate. "I'll have to retire to the dressing room for repairs! Good-bye, and God bless you!"