s, although of course I have ears and I can't help hearing
about them; but these border towns are home to us, and people know me.
I won't be humiliated more than I am; public pity is--hard enough to
bear. I've about reached the breaking-point."

"Indeed?" Austin leaned forward, his eyes inflamed. His tone was
raised, heedless of possible eavesdroppers. "Then why don't you end it?
Why don't you divorce me? God knows I never see anything of you. You
have your part of the house and I have mine; all we share in common is
meal-hours, and--and a mail address. You're about as much my wife as
Dolores is."

Alaire turned upon him eyes dark with misery. "You know why I don't
divorce you. No, Ed, we're going to live out our agreement, and these
Brownsville episodes are going to cease." Her lips whitened. "So are
your visits to the pumping-station."

"What do you mean by that?"

"You transferred Panfilo because he was growing jealous of you and
Rosa."

Ed burst into sudden laughter. "Good Lord! There's no harm in a little
flirtation. Rosa's a pretty girl."

His wife uttered a breathless, smothered exclamation; her hands, as
they lay on the table-cloth, were tightly clenched. "She's your
tenant--almost your servant. What kind of a man are you? Haven't you
any decency left?"

"Say! Go easy! I guess I'm no different to most men." Austin's
unpleasant laughter had been succeeded by a still more unpleasant
scowl. "I have to do SOMETHING. It's dead enough around here--"

"You must stop going there."

"Humph! I notice YOU go where YOU please. Rosa and I never spent a
night together in the chaparral--"

"Ed!" Alaire's exclamation was like the snap of a whip. She rose and
faced her husband, quivering as if the lash had stung her flesh.

"That went home, eh? Well, I'm no fool! I've seen something of the
world, and I've found that women are about like men. I'd like to have a
look at this David Law, this gunman, this Handsome Harry who waits at
water-holes for ladies in distress." Ed ignored his wife's outflung
hand, and continued, mockingly: "I'll bet he's all that's manly and
splendid, everything that I'm NOT."

"You'd--better stop," gasped the woman. "I can't stand everything."

"So? Well, neither can I."

"After--this, I think you'd better go--to San Antonio. Maybe I'll
forget before you come back."

To this "Young Ed" agreed quickly enough. "Good!" said he. "That suits
me. It's hell around Las Palmas, anyhow, and I'll a