"Th' devil ye did! An' where was ye goin' t' drive th' other carriage
at that thunderin' rate? It won't wash. His honor'll be stone-deaf
when ye tell him that. You're drunk, or have been."

"Not to-night."

"Well, I'd give me night off t' know what ye were up to. Don't ye
know nothin' about ordinances an' laws? An' I wouldn't mind havin' ye
tell me why ye threw yer arms around th' lady an' kissed her,"--
shrewdly.

Warburton started in his saddle. He had forgotten all about that part
of the episode. His blood warmed suddenly and his cheeks burned. He
had kissed her, kissed her soundly, too, the most radiantly beautiful
woman in all the world. Why, come to think of it, it was easily worth
a night in jail. Yes, by George, he _had_ kissed her, kissed
that blooming cheek, and but for this policeman, would have
forgotten! Whatever happened to him, she wouldn't forget in a hurry.
He laughed. The policeman gazed at him in pained surprise.

"Well, ye seem t' take it good an' hearty."

"If you could only see the humor in it, my friend, you'd laugh, too."

"Oh, I would, hey? All I got t' say is that yer nerve gits me. An' ye
stand a pretty good show of bein' rounded up for more'n thirty days,
too. Well, ye've had yer joke; mebbe ye have th' price t' pay th'
fiddler. Turn here."