The gambler rose slowly to his feet. “You do love him, don’t you?” She bowed her face, and he winced, but continued: “I wouldn’t make you my wife that way. I didn’t mean it that way.”
At this she laughed bitterly. “Oh, I see. Of course not. How foolish of me to expect it of a man like you. I understand what you mean now, and the bargain will stand just the same, if that is what you came for. I wanted to leave this life and be good, to go away and start over and play the game square, but I see it’s no use. I’ll pay. I know how relentless you are, and the price is low enough. You can have me—and that—marriage talk—I’ll not speak of again. I’ll stay what I am for his sake.”
“Stop!” cried the Kid. “You’re wrong. I’m not that kind of a sport.” His voice broke suddenly, its vehemence shaking his slim body. “Oh, Cherry, I love you the way a man ought to love a woman. It’s one of the two good things left in me, and I want to take you away from here where we can both hide from the past, where we can start new, as you say.”
“You would marry me?” she asked.
“In an hour, and give my heart’s blood for the privilege; but I can’t stop this thing, not even if your own dear life hung upon it. I must kill that man.”
She approached him and laid her arms about his neck, every line of her body pleading, but he refused steadfastly, while the sweat stood out upon his brow.
She begged: “They’re all against him, Kid.] He’s fighting a hopeless fight. He laid all he had at that girl’s feet, and I’ll do the same for you.”
The man growled savagely. “He got his reward. He took all she had—”
“Don’t be a fool. I guess I know. You’re a faro-dealer, but you haven’t any right to talk like that about a good woman, even to a bad one like me.”
Into his dark eyes slowly crept a hungry look, and she felt him begin to tremble the least bit. He undertook to speak, paused, wet his lips, then carefully chose these words: