extremes of emotion.

"Will you wait? Will you trust me a little? Will you give me a chance?
After all, maybe I'm not so bad as I seem."

"Oh, if you weren't! Russ, are you asking me to trust you?"

"I beg you to--dearest. Trust me and wait."

"Wait? What for? Are you really on the square, Russ? Or are you what
George calls you--a drunken cowboy, a gambler, sharp with the cards, a
gun-fighter?"

My face grew cold as I felt the blood leave it. At that moment mention
of George Wright fixed once for all my hate of him.

Bitter indeed was it that I dared not give him the lie. But what could
I do? The character Wright gave me was scarcely worse than what I had
chosen to represent. I had to acknowledge the justice of his claim, but
nevertheless I hated him.

"Sally, I ask you to trust me in spite of my reputation."

"You ask me a great deal," she replied.

"Yes, it's too much. Let it be then only this--you'll wait. And while
you wait, promise not to flirt with Wright and Waters."

"Russ, I'll not let George or any of them so much as dare touch me," she
declared in girlish earnestness, her voice rising. "I'll promise if
you'll promise me not to go into those saloons any more."

One word would have brought her into my arms for good and all. The
better side of Sally Langdon showed then in her appeal. That appeal was
as strong as the drawing power of her little face, all eloquent with its
light, and eyes dark with tears, and lips wanting to smile.

My response should have been instant. How I yearned to give it and win
the reward I imagined I saw on her tremulous lips! But I was bound. The
grim, dark nature of my enterprise there in Linrock returned to stultify
my eagerness, dispel my illusion, shatter my dream.

For one instant it flashed through my mind to tell Sally who I was, what
my errand was, after the truth. But the secret was not mine to tell. And
I kept my pledges.

The hopeful glow left Sally's face. Her disappointment seemed keen. Then
a little scorn of certainty was the bitterest of all for me to bear.

"That's too much to promise all at once," I protested lamely, and I knew
I would have done better to keep silence.

"Russ, a promise like that is nothing--if a man loves a girl," she
retorted. "Don't make any more love to me, please, unless you want me to
laugh at you. And don't feel such terrible trouble if you happen to see
me flirting occasionally."

She ended with a little mocking laugh. That wa