"Why, the stage-coach comes by at about this time."

"And you think the passengers will observe us sitting here?"

"Of course they will."

"Miss Mulrady, I implore you to stay."

He was leaning over her with such apparent earnestness of voice and
gesture that the color came into her cheek. For a moment she
scarcely dared to lift her conscious eyes to his. When she did so,
she suddenly glanced her own aside with a flash of anger. He was
laughing.

"If you have any pity for me, do not leave me now," he repeated.
"Stay a moment longer, and my fortune is made. The passengers will
report us all over Red Dog as engaged. I shall be supposed to be
in your father's secrets, and shall be sought after as a director
of all the new companies. The 'Record' will double its
circulation; poetry will drop out of its columns, advertising rush
to fill its place, and I shall receive five dollars a week more
salary, if not seven and a half. Never mind the consequences to
yourself at such a moment. I assure you there will be none. You
can deny it the next day--I will deny it--nay, more, the 'Record'
itself will deny it in an extra edition of one thousand copies, at
ten cents each. Linger a moment longer, Miss Mulrady. Fly, oh fly
not yet. They're coming--hark! oh! By Jove, it's only Don
Caesar!"