"I think you're splendid," she told him. "Oh, I know what you've
done--that you are not good. I know you've wasted your life and
lived with your hand against every man's. But I can't help all
that. I look for the good in you, and I find it. Even in your
sins you are not petty. You know how to rise to an opportunity."
This man of contradictions, forever the creature of his impulses,
gave the lie to her last words by signally failing to rise to
this one. He snatched her to him, and looked down hungry-eyed at
her sweet beauty, as fresh and fragrant as the wild rose in the
copse.
"Please," she cried, straining from him with shy, frightened
eyes.
For answer he kissed her fiercely on the cheeks, and eyes, and
mouth.
"The rest are his, but these are mine," he laughed mirthlessly.
Then, flinging her from him, he led the way into the next room.
Flushed and disheveled, she followed. He had outraged her maiden
instincts and trampled down her traditions of caste, but she had
no time to think of this now.
"If you're through explaining the mechanism of that Winchester to
Sheriff Collins we'll reluctantly dispense with your presence,
Mr.
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