spected you and the girls all wanted you, and
the way you fought those three Irishmen when I was behind the picnic
table. I couldn't love or marry a man I wasn't proud of, and I'm so
proud of you, so proud."

"Not half as much as I am right now of myself," he answered, "for having
won you. It's too good to be true. Maybe the alarm clock'll go off and
wake me up in a couple of minutes. Well, anyway, if it does, I'm goin'
to make the best of them two minutes first. Watch out I don't eat you,
I'm that hungry for you."

He smothered her in an embrace, holding her so tightly to him that it
almost hurt. After what was to her an age-long period of bliss, his arms
relaxed and he seemed to make an effort to draw himself together.

"An' the clock ain't gone off yet," he whispered against her
cheek. "And it's a dark night, an' there's Fruitvale right ahead, an' if
there ain't King and Prince standin' still in the middle of the road. I
never thought the time'd come when I wouldn't want to take the ribbons
on a fine pair of horses. But this is that time. I just can't let go
of you, and I've gotta some time to-night. It hurts worse'n poison, but
here goes."

He restored her to herself, tucked the disarranged robe about her, and
chirruped to the impatient team.

Half an hour later he called "Whoa!"

"I know I'm awake now, but I don't know but maybe I dreamed all the
rest, and I just want to make sure."

And again be made the reins fast and took her in his arms.

CHAPTER XII

The days flew by for Saxon. She worked on steadily at the laundry,
even doing more overtime than usual, and all her free waking hours were
devoted to preparations for the great change and to Billy. He had proved
himself God's own impetuous lover by insisting on getting married
the next day after the proposal, and then by resolutely refusing to
compromise on more than a week's delay.

"Why wait?" he demanded. "We're not gettin' any younger so far as I can
notice, an' think of all we lose every day we wait."

In the end, he gave in to a month, which was well, for in two weeks he
was transferred, with half a dozen other drivers, to work from the big
stables of Corberly and Morrison in West Oakland. House-hunting in the
other end of town ceased, and on Pine Street, between Fifth and Fourth,
and in immediate proximity to the great Southern Pacific railroad
yards, Billy and Saxon rented a neat cottage of four small rooms for ten
dollars a month.

"D