“She’s a yellow woman,” he said contemptuously, “I don’t want her,” and his hungry eyes went helplessly toward the dark splendor of Kate Cathrew in her velvet chair.
Provine surged forward, a sudden excitement in his snaky orbs.
“I do,” he cried, “try me!”
Arnold laughed.
“Good! I like an eager lover. You may guard Miss Allison inside, and Basford shall take the place I had intended for you outside the Flange. We’ll talk business some more tomorrow. We bid you adieu, Miss Allison. I hope by morning you will be more amenable to reason.”
Without a backward glance Nance turned and strode away between her guards. Resistance was useless, she well knew.
“‘In my distress I cried unto the Lord and He heard me,’” she thought courageously. “‘I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help.’”
“One moment,” called Arnold, still laughing, “remember that the Secret Way tells no tales—and that Provine has long wanted to go back to Texas.”
The girl turned and glanced back.
“The hand of God,” she said calmly, “is ever before my face. Neither you nor yours can do me harm for the Lord shall preserve me from all evil, He shall preserve my soul. And He did not make me strong for nothing,” she added “I shall leave it all to Him.”