Without a word the Sheriff dropped the coins into the cuspidor.  The Girl saw the action and her eyes flashed with anger.  The next moment, however, she looked up at him and said more gently than any time yet: 

“No, Jack, I can’t marry you.  Ah, come along—­start your game again—­go on, Jack.”  And so saying she came out from behind the bar and went over to the faro table with:  “Whoop la!  Mula!  Go!  Good Lord, look at that faro table!”

But Rance was on the verge of losing control of himself.  There was passion in his steely grey eyes when he advanced towards her, but although the Girl saw the look she did not flinch, and met it in a clear, straight glance.

“Look here, Jack Rance,” she said, “let’s have it out right now.  I run The Polka ‘cause I like it.  My father taught me the business an’, well, don’t you worry ’bout me—­I can look after m’self.  I carry my little wepping”—­and with that she touched significantly the little pocket of her dress.  “I’m independent, I’m happy, The Polka’s payin’, an’ it’s bully!” she wound up, laughing.  Then, with one of her quick changes of mood, she turned upon him angrily and demanded:  “Say, what the devil do you mean by proposin’ to me with a wife in Noo Orleans?  Now, this is a respectable saloon, an’ I don’t want no more of it.”

A look of gloom came into Rance’s eyes.

“I didn’t say anything—­” he began.

“Push me that Queen,” interrupted the Girl, sharply, gathering up the cards at the faro table, and pointing to one that was just beyond her reach.  But when Rance handed it to her and was moving silently away, she added:  “Ah, no offence, Jack, but I got other idees o’ married life from what you have.”

“Aw, nonsense!” came from the Sheriff in a voice that was not free from irritation.

The Girl glanced up at him quickly.  Her mind was not the abode of hardened convictions, but was tender to sentiment, and something in his manner at once softening her, she said: 

“Nonsense?  I dunno ’bout that.  You see—­” and her eyes took on a far away look—­“I had a home once an’ I ain’t forgot it—­a home up over our little saloon down in Soledad.  I ain’t forgot my father an’ my mother an’ what a happy kepple they were.  Lord, how they loved each other—­it was beautiful!”

Despite his seemingly callous exterior, there was a soft spot in the gambler’s heart.  Every word that the Girl uttered had its effect on him.  Now his hands, which had been clenched, opened out and a new light came into his eyes.  Suddenly, however, it was replaced by one of anger, for the door, at that moment, was hesitatingly pushed open, and The Sidney Duck stood with his hand on the knob, snivelling: 

“Oh, Miss, I—­”

The Girl fairly flew over to him.