suddenly shocked into a rational state of mind, and he was now
battling with himself to hold on to it. Madeline saw the dark,
damp hair lift from his brows as he held it up to the cool wind.
Above him she saw the white stars in the deep-blue sky, and they
seemed as unreal to her as any other thing in this strange night.
They were cold, brilliant, aloof, distant; and looking at them,
she felt her wrath lessen and die and leave her calm.

The cowboy turned and began to talk.

"You see--I was pretty drunk," he labored. "There was a fiesta--
and a wedding. I do fool things when I'm drunk. I made a fool
bet I'd marry the first girl who came to town. . . . If you
hadn't worn that veil--the fellows were joshing me--and Ed Linton
was getting married--and everybody always wants to gamble. . . .
I must have been pretty drunk."

After the one look at her when she had first put aside her veil
he had not raised his eyes to her face. The cool audacity had
vanished in what was either excessive emotion or the maudlin
condition peculiar to some men when drunk. He could not stand
still; perspiration collected in beads upon his forehead; he kept
wiping his face with his scarf, and he breathed like a man after
violent exertions.

"You see--I was pretty--" he began.

"Explanations are not necessary," she interrupted. "I am very
tired--distressed. The hour is late. Have you the slightest
idea what it means to be a gentleman?"