the pale cheeks glow with love's fire, the eyes grow heavy, the
dainty lips invite kisses. Cherry was a perfect little spoiled
animal, he reflected, and a very dangerous one.

"What girl?" she questioned again, and he knew beforehand the look
that went with it.

"The girl I intend to marry," he said, slowly, looking her between
the eyes.

He knew he was cruel--he wanted to be--it satisfied the clamor and
turmoil within him, while he also felt that the sooner she knew
and the colder it left her the better. He could not note the
effect of the remark on her, however, for, as he spoke, the door
of the box opened and the head of the Bronco Kid appeared, then
retired instantly with apologies.

"Wrong stall," he said, in his slow voice. "Looking for another
party." Nevertheless, his eyes had covered every inch of them--
noted the drawn curtains and the breathless poise of the woman--
while his ears had caught part of Glenister's speech.

"You won't marry her," said Cherry, quietly. "I don't know who she
is, but I won't let you marry her."

She rose and smoothed her skirts.

"It's time nice people were going now." She said it with a sneer
at herself. "Take me out through this crowd. I'm living quietly
and I don't want these beasts to follow me."