“Pard, haven’t you seen too much red liquor?” drawled Larry.
The girl shook her head. “Too late!” she said, softly.
“Why?”
“Larry is bad, but he’s honest. I’m both bad and dishonest.”
“Ruby, I wouldn’t call you dishonest,” returned Neale, bluntly. “Bad—yes. And wild! But if you had a chance?”
“No,” she said.
“You’re both slated for hell. What’s the sense of it?”
“I don’t see that you’re slated for heaven,” retorted Ruby.
“Wal, I shore say echo,” drawled Larry, as he rolled a cigarette. “Pard, you’re drunk this heah minnit.”
“I’m not drunk. I appeal to you, Miss Stanton,” protested Neale.