"You say, they say, too much, Monsieur."

"Here! Don't you go givin' me no orders, you French crinoline fluff!"

"I ordair no man, an' no man is ordair me!" She stared him down with her
glittering, black eyes, and returned to her dealing. Pete strolled out,
followed by his satellites. When the noises in the street grew louder it
caused no particular comment. It was the usual thing. But when a crowd
burst into the Royal Flush, Mignon sprang to her feet with a cry of
anguish.

"Dealt me a raw deal, didn't yeh, you smart Frenchie?" gloated Buckeye
Pete. "Well, look at your man. Take a good look, an' don't miss the
necktie he's wearin'. Pretty li'l rope choker we got for Dandy Anthony.
Ain't no man can go killin' an' get away with it, while I'm here,"
looking around for applause.

"Name of a pig!" hissed Mignon. "You - you would."

"Sure' we would! Right out on the lynchin' tree." She turned and dashed
for the rear. "Ze sheriff! He must come toute suite!"

"Min," whispered Soft-soap Joe, the bartender, "he left two hours ago on
a new case, otherwise they wouldn't a-dared do this."

"Mon Dieu! An' ze justice, he is intoxicate! Mother Marie, pray for
him," she cried, in her own language, and she ran after the lynching
party.

Once she stopped, shaking with terror at what she took to be a grizzly