“Ruby, don’t lose your temper,” remonstrated the gambler.
“He insulted me!” she cried, passionately.
“He did not. Ruby, you’re spoiled—”
“Spoiled—hell!... Didn’t he look at me, flirt with me? That’s why I asked him to dance. Then he insulted me. I’ll make Cordy shoot him up for it.”
“No, you won’t,” replied Hough, and he pulled her toward his companion, a tall woman with golden hair. “Stanton, shut her up.”
The woman addressed spoke a few words in Ruby’s ear. Then the girl flounced away. But she spoke with withering scorn to Neale.
“What in hell did you come in here for, you big handsome stiff?”
With that she was lost amid her mirthful companions.
Hough turned to Neale. “The girl’s a favorite. You ruffled her vanity... you see. That’s Benton. If you had happened to be alone you would have had gunplay. Be careful after this.”
“But I didn’t flirt with her,” protested Neale. “I only looked at her—curiously, of course. And I said I wouldn’t dance.”