Rouletta offered no objection to this proposal; the fellow slipped an arm about her and led her away, meanwhile pouring a confidential murmur into her ear. They had proceeded but a few steps when 'Poleon Doret strode out of the gloom and laid a heavy hand upon the man.
"My frien'," he demanded, brusquely, "w'ere you takin' dis lady?"
"Eh?" The fellow wheeled sharply. "What's the idea? What is she to you?"
"She ain't not'in' to me. But I seen you plenty tams an'—you ain't no good."
Rouletta spoke intelligibly for the first time: "I've no place to go—no place to sleep. I'm very—tired."
"There you've got it," the girl's self-appointed protector grinned. "Well, I happen to have room for her in my tent." As Doret's fingers sank deeper into his flesh the man's anger rose; he undertook to shake off the unwelcome grasp. "You leggo! You mind your own business—"
"Dis goin' be my biznesse," 'Poleon announced. "Dere's somet'ing fonny 'bout dis—"
"Don't get funny with me. I got as much right to her as you have—" 'Poleon jerked the man off his feet, then flung him aside as if he were unclean. His voice was hoarse with disgust when he cried:
"Get out! Beat it! By Gar! You ain't fit for touch decent gal. You spik wit' her again, I tear you in two piece!"
Turning to Rouletta he said, "Mam'selle, you lookin' for your papa, eh?"