"If you are crazy about me, you don't have to tell!" cried Sally, red
and white by turns.

"I want to stop your flirting one way or another. I've been in earnest.
I wasn't flirting. I begged you to--to..."

"You never did," interrupted Sally furiously. That hint had been a
spark.

"I couldn't have dreamed it," I protested, in a passion to be earnest,
yet tingling with the fun of it. "That day when I--didn't I ask..."

"If my memory serves me correctly, you didn't ask anything," she
replied, with anger and scorn now struggling with mirth.

"But, Sally, I meant to. You understood me? Say you didn't believe I
could take that liberty without honorable intentions."

That was too much for Sally. She jumped at her horse, made the quickest
kind of a mount, and was off like a flash.

"Stop me if you can," she called back over her shoulder, her face alight
and saucy.

"Russ, go after her," said Miss Sampson. "In that mood she'll ride to
Sanderson. My dear fellow, don't stare so. I understand many things now.
Sally is a flirt. She would drive any man mad. Russ, I've grown in a
short time to like you. If you'll be a man--give up drinking and
gambling--maybe you'll have a chance with her. Hurry now--go after her."