"Yes. I've always liked you very much. You've been good to me. I love you like a brother, I think. Oh, I don't know how to say it."
"Let's get this straight, Polly. Is there some one else you love?"
A tide of color flooded her face to the roots of the hair. She met his steady look reluctantly.
"We needn't discuss that, Jim."
"Needn't we?" He laughed a little, but his voice was rough with feeling. "You're the blamedest little pilgrim ever I did see. What kind of a fellow do you think I am? I ain't good enough for you—not by a thousand miles. Even if you felt about me the way I do about you, it would be a big risk for you to marry me. But now—Sho, little missionary, I ain't so selfish as to let you sacrifice yore life for me."
"If I marry you it will be because I want to, Jim."
"You'll want to because you're such a good little Christian you think it's up to you to save a brand from the burning. But I won't let you do any such foolishness. You go marry that other man. If he's a good, square, decent fellow, you'll be a whole lot better off than if you tied up with a ne'er-do-well like me."
They heard a step on the porch.
"Don't forget. Three taps if you're alone in the room," she said in a whisper.
Goodheart came into the parlor with Pierre Roubideau. "Expect we'd better turn in, Clanton. We've got to make an early start to-morrow."