Sally bent over me and I had not the nerve to look up.

“Never mind things—­really,” she replied.  “The future’s far off.  Let it alone.  We’re together.  I—­I like you, Russ.  And I’ve got to be—­to be loved.  There.  I never confessed that to any other man.  You’ve been hateful when we might have had such fun.  The rides in the sun, in the open with the wind in our faces.  The walks at night in the moonlight.  Russ, haven’t you missed something?”

The sweetness and seductiveness of her, the little luring devil of her, irresistible as they were, were no more irresistible than the naturalness, the truth of her.

I trembled even before I looked up into her flushed face and arch eyes; and after that I knew if I could not frighten her out of this daring mood I would have to yield despite my conviction that she only trifled.  As my manhood, as well as duty to Steele, forced me to be unyielding, all that was left seemed to be to frighten her.

The instant this was decided a wave of emotion—­love, regret, bitterness, anger—­surged over me, making me shake.  I felt the skin on my face tighten and chill.  I grasped her with strength that might have need to hold a plunging, unruly horse.  I hurt her.  I held her as in a vise.

And the action, the feel of her, her suddenly uttered cry wrought against all pretense, hurt me as my brutality hurt her, and then I spoke what was hard, passionate truth.

“Girl, you’re playing with fire!” I cried out hoarsely.  “I love you—­love you as I’d want my sister loved.  I asked you to marry me.  That was proof, if it was foolish.  Even if you were on the square, which you’re not, we couldn’t ever be anything to each other.  Understand?  There’s a reason, besides your being above me.  I can’t stand it.  Stop playing with me or I’ll—­I’ll...”

Whatever I meant to say was not spoken, for Sally turned deathly white, probably from my grasp and my looks as well as my threat.

I let go of her, and stepping back to my horse choked down my emotion.

“Russ!” she faltered, and there was womanliness and regret trembling with the fear in her voice.  “I—­I am on the square.”

That had touched the real heart of the girl.

“If you are, then play the game square,” I replied darkly.

“I will, Russ, I promise.  I’ll never tease or coax you again.  If I do, then I’ll deserve what you—­what I get.  But, Russ, don’t think me a—­a four-flush.”

All the long ride home we did not exchange another word.  The traveling gait of Sally’s horse was a lope, that of mine a trot; and therefore, to my relief, she was always out in front.

As we neared the ranch, however, Sally slowed down until I caught up with her; and side by side we rode the remainder of the way.  At the corrals, while I unsaddled, she lingered.

“Russ, you didn’t tell me if you agreed with me about Diane,” she said finally.