“There you sit—you beautiful... But you're not a girl now. You're Dandy Dale.”
“Don't call me that!” exclaimed Joan.
“But I shall—always. We'll keep that bandit suit always. You can dress up sometimes to show off—to make me remember—to scare the—the kids—”
“Jim Cleve!”
“Oh, Joan, I'm afraid to be happy. But I can't help it. We're going to get away. You belong to me. And I've sacks and sacks of gold-dust. Lord! I've no idea how much! But you can never spend all the money. Isn't it just like a dream?”
Joan smiled through tears, and failed trying to look severe.
“Get me and the gold away—safe—before you crow,” she said.
That sobered him. He led her out again into the dark street with its dark forms crossing to and fro before the lights.
“It's a long time before morning. Where can I take you—so you can sleep a little?” he muttered.
“Find a place where we can sit down and wait,” she suggested.