such sweet assurance that she did love me, better than she knew, that I
was divided between extremes of emotion.

"Will you wait? Will you trust me a little? Will you give me a chance?
After all, maybe I'm not so bad as I seem."

"Oh, if you weren't! Russ, are you asking me to trust you?"

"I beg you to--dearest. Trust me and wait."

"Wait? What for? Are you really on the square, Russ? Or are you what
George calls you--a drunken cowboy, a gambler, sharp with the cards, a
gun-fighter?"

My face grew cold as I felt the blood leave it. At that moment mention
of George Wright fixed once for all my hate of him.

Bitter indeed was it that I dared not give him the lie. But what could
I do? The character Wright gave me was scarcely worse than what I had
chosen to represent. I had to acknowledge the justice of his claim, but
nevertheless I hated him.

"Sally, I ask you to trust me in spite of my reputation."

"You ask me a great deal," she replied.

"Yes, it's too much. Let it be then only this--you'll wait. And while
you wait, promise not to flirt with Wright and Waters."

"Russ, I'll not let George or any of them so much as dare touch me," she