e path leading back was long ago overgrown with weeds, and
could not now be retraced. One thing he grasped clearly,--the girl
should be given her chance; nothing in his life must ever again soil
her or lower her ideals. Mrs. Herndon was right, and he realized it;
neither his presence nor his money were fit to influence her future.
He swore between his clinched teeth, his face grown haggard. The sun's
rays bridged the slowly darkening valley with cords of red gold, and
the man pulled himself to his feet by gripping the root of a tree. He
realized that he had been sitting there for hours, and that he was
hungry.

Down beneath, amid the fast awakening noise and bustle of early
evening, the long discipline of the gambler reasserted itself--he got
back his nerve. It was Bob Hampton, cool, resourceful, sarcastic of
speech, quick of temper, who greeted the loungers about the hotel, and
who sat, with his back to the wall, in the little dining-room, watchful
of all others present. And it was Bob Hampton who strolled carelessly
out upon the darkened porch an hour later, leaving a roar of laughter
behind him, and an enemy as well. Little he cared for that, however,
in his present mood, and he stood there, amid the black shadows,
looking contemptuously down upon the stream of coatless humanity
trooping past on pleasure bent, the blue smoke circling his head, his
gray eyes glowing half angrily. Suddenly he leaned forward, clutching
the rail in quick surprise.

"Kid," he exclaimed, harshly, "what does this mean? What are you doing
alone here?"

She stopped instantly and glanced up, her face flushing in the light
streaming forth from the open door of the Occidental.

"I reckon I 'm alone here because I want to be," she returned,
defiantly. "I ain't no slave. How do you get up there?"

He extended his hand, and drew her up beside him into the shaded
corner. "Well," he said, "tell me the truth."

"I 've quit, that's all, Bob. I just couldn't stand for reform any
longer, and so I 've come back here to you."

The man drew a deep breath. "Did n't you like Mrs. Herndon?"

"Oh, she 's all right enough, so far as that goes. 'T ain't that; only
I just didn't like some things she said and did."

"Kid," and Hampton straightened up, his voice growing stern. "I 've
got to know the straight of this. You say you like Mrs. Herndon well
enough, but not some other things. What were they?"

The girl hesitated, drawing back