Laure cried, wildly, hysterically: "Don't do it! I warn you!"
"Are you ready to go?"
"All ready," Rouletta agreed. Together they left the theater.
Nothing was said as the two trod the snow-banked streets; not until they halted at the door of the Courteau House did Rouletta speak; then she said:
"I wouldn't have let you do this, only—I have! a temper."
"So have I," Pierce said, shortly. "It's humiliating to own up."
"I was wrong. I have no right to hurt that girl's feelings."
"Right?" He laughed angrily. "She had no right to make a scene."
"Why not? She's fighting for her own, isn't she? She's honest about it, at least." Noting Pierce's expression of surprise, Rouletta went on: "You expect me to be shocked, but I'm not, for I've known the truth in a general way. You think I'm going to preach. Well, I'm not going to do that, either. I've lived a queer life; I've seen women like Laure—in fact, I was raised among them—and nothing they do surprises me very much. But I've learned a good many lessons around saloons and gambling-places. One is this: never cheat. Father taught me that. He gave everybody a square deal, including himself. It's a good thing to think about—a square deal all around, even to yourself."
"That sounds like an allopathic sermon of some sort," said Pierce, "but I can't see just how it applies to me. However, I'll think it over. You're a brick, Miss Kirby, and I'm sorry if you had an unpleasant moment." He took Rouletta's hand and held it while he stared at her with a frank, contemplative gaze. "You're an unusual person, and you're about the nicest girl I've met. I want you to like me."