"I reckon I'll join you later, gentlemen," he said.

While their footsteps died away he looked steadily at Arlie. Her eyes
met his and held fast. Beneath the olive of her cheeks, a color began
to glow.

He held out both his hands. The light in his eyes softened,
transfigured his hard face. "You can't help it, honey. It may not be
what you would have chosen, but it has got to be. You're mine."

Almost beneath her breath she spoke. "You forgot-- the other girl."

"What other girl? There is none-- never was one."

"The girl in the picture."

His eyes opened wide. "Good gracious! She's been married three months
to a friend of mine. Larry Neill his name is."

"And she isn't your sweetheart at all? Never was?"

"I don't reckon she ever was. Neill took that picture himself. We were
laughing, because I had just been guying them about how quick they got
engaged. She was saying I'd be engaged myself before six months. And I
am. Ain't I?"

She came to him slowly-- first, the little outstretched hands, and
then the soft, supple, resilient body. Slowly, too, her sweet
reluctant lips came round to meet his.