The clear music of Dolly Maxwell’s laughter floated to her. Her brow clouded.
“ I cannot help being unhappy, Mr. Carey.”
Carey’s hand slipped down on his hip and then he sighed. No one had been allowed to wear a six-gun into the dance-hall.
“Somebody botherin’ you? P’int him out!”
“If there were, you would protect me, Mr. Carey, I know!”
“Would I!”
“You’ve no idea how secure it makes me feel just to hear you speak that way.”
“Honest?”
“Yes, for I know that you could keep danger and trouble far away from me.”
He cleared his throat. His chest arched.