"Would you, if you could?" he asked rashly.

"Certainly not!"

"I'm afraid we're getting off the trail," he amended tactfully. "I asked
you, a while back, if you'd marry me."

"And I said I must hear both sides of your trouble with Harry, before I
could answer."

"What's the use? You'd take his part, anyway."

"Not if I found he was guilty of all you--insinuate. I should be perfectly
just." She really believed that.

"Can't you tell me yes or no, anyway? Don't let him come between us."

"I can't help it. We'd never agree, or be happy. He'd keep on coming between
us, whether we meant him to or not," she said dispiritedly.

"That's a cinch," Rowdy muttered, thinking of Harry's trouble-breeding
talents.

"Then there's no more to be said. Until you and Harry settle your
difficulties amicably, or I am convinced that he's in the wrong, we'll just
be friends, Mr. Vaughan. Good afternoon." She rode into the Rodway yard,
feeling very just and virtuous, no doubt. But she left Rowdy with some
rather unpleasant thoughts, and with a sentiment toward her precious brother
which was not far from manslaughter.