despairingly, and seemed to glimpse a vision of all her future
life stretched out before her, with always the form and face of
the burly blacksmith pursuing her.

"Come on, kid, an' kick in," he continued. "It's the good old
summer time, an' that's the time to get married."

"But I'm not going to marry you," she protested. "I've told you a
thousand times already."

"Aw, forget it. You want to get them ideas out of your think-box.
Of course, you're goin' to marry me. It's a pipe. An' I'll tell
you another pipe. You an' me's goin' acrost to Frisco Friday
night. There's goin' to be big doin's with the Horseshoers."

"Only I'm not," she contradicted.

"Oh, yes you are," he asserted with absolute assurance. "We'll
catch the last boat back, an' you'll have one fine time. An' I'll
put you next to some of the good dancers. Oh, I ain't a pincher,
an' I know you like dancin'."

"But I tell you I can't," she reiterated.

He shot a glance of suspicion at her from under the black thatch
of brows that met above his nose and were as one brow.

"Why can't you?"

"A date," she said.