"Shall I make him shoot, Pearl?" asked Flick softly. "He won't have
much chance with me, you know. I'll get him in Pete's place and pick a
quarrel. He'll understand. You won't be in it."

"No, you won't, Bob, although I can see how you're wanting to," she said
decisively. "The Black Pearl!" she broke out presently. "My name's an
awful good advertisement. It gives me a reputation for being worse than
I am." She laughed cynically. "But he believed it." Her whole face
darkened again.

"He needn't go away believing it, Pearl." Once more Flick spoke softly,
persuasively, and once more her father looked at her hopefully.

She looked quickly from one to the other as if about to accede, and
then, dropping her head on her arms crossed on her knees, she fell into
wild and tempestuous weeping. "No," she cried, "no, promise me you
won't, Bob. Oh, Oh, Oh!" she wailed and rocked back and forth. "What
shall I do? What shall I do?"

At last she lifted her heavy eyes and looked at the two men. "I want to
go away from here, quick," she said, "quick."

"With Sweeney," said her father, well pleased.

"No." She threw out her hands as if putting the thought from her with
abhorrence. "No, I can't dance and I won't. I never want to dance again.
I never will dance again," passionately.

"But that is a feeling which will soon pass away, my daughter," urged