She clenched one hand beside her in a way he knew, but it pleased him more
than it warned him, just as it pleased him to see the ears of Grey Molly go
back.

"What's wrong about Blondy Hansen?"

"What's right about him?" he countered senselessly.

Her voice went a bit shrill. "Blondy is a gentleman, I'll have you know."

"Is he?"

"Don't you sneer at me, Victor Gregg. I won't have it!"

"You won't, eh?"

He felt that he was pushing her to the danger point, but she was perfectly,
satisfyingly beautiful in her anger; he taunted her with the pleasure of an
artist painting a picture.

"I won't!" she repeated. Something else came to her lips, but she repressed
it, and he could see the pressure from within telling.

"Don't get in a huff over nothing," he urged, in real alarm. "Only, it made
me kind of mad to see Blondy standing there with that calf-look."

"What calf-look? He's a lot better to look at than you'll ever be."

A smear of red danced before the vision of Gregg.