eemed, now so long ago.

"You are right!" she said, after a pause, while a ripple of quivering,
mischievous laughter leaped from her lips and she laid her hand lightly
on his arm. "Oh, Ramblin' Kid, you are indeed an 'ign'rant, savage,
stupid brute!' You are 'ign'rant,'" she continued while he looked at her
with a puzzled expression in his eyes, "of the ways of a woman's heart;
you are 'savage'--in the defense of a woman's honor; you are
'stupid'--not to see that it is the _man_ a woman wants and not the thin
social veneer; you are a 'brute'--an utter brute, Ramblin' Kid--
to--to--make a girl almost tell you--tell you--that she--she--"

The sentence was not finished.

The Ramblin' Kid caught her by both shoulders. He pushed her back--arm's
length--and held her while the clean moonlight poured down on her
upturned face and his black eyes searched her own as though to read her
very soul.

An instant she was almost frightened by the agony that was in his face.

Then she opened her mouth and laughed--such a laugh as comes only from
the throat of a woman when love is having its way!

"By God!" he whispered, his voice hoarse with passion, his hot breath
fanning the brown hair on her forehead; "this has gone far enough! I'll
tell you what you want me to say--I'll say it! And it's the truth--I
love you--love you--_love you_! Yes!" And he shook her toward him. "Do
you hear me? I love you--love you--so much it hurts! Now laugh! Now make
fun of me! I know I'm a fool. I know where I stand! I know I don't
belong in your crowd--I ain't fit to mix with 'em! I ain't been raised
like you was raised. You don't need to tell me that! I know it already!
I know there's somethin' a man has to have besides what he gets on th'
open range among th' cattle--an' th' bronchos--an' th'
rattlesnakes--he's got to be ground in th' mill of schoolin'--of books;
he's got to be hammered into shape under th' heels of 'civilization';
he's got to be trained to jump through and roll over an' know which fork
to eat with before a girl like you--"

His hands relaxed, but before his fingers loosened their grip on her
shoulders Carolyn June's own soft palms reached up and caught the man's
sun-tanned cheeks between them. Her eyes burned back into its own. Once
more the laugh rippled from the full pulsing throat.

"Ramblin' Kid, oh, Ramblin' Kid," she murmured, while the long lashes
lifted over brown pools tenderness, "a man--my man--does not need to be
or