iled to allure Neale to baseness; now as a good woman, with pure
motive, she would win his friendship, his eternal gratitude.

Stanton had always been a target for eyes, yet never as now, when she
drew every gaze like a dazzling light in a dark room.

As soon as she saw Neale she forgot every one else in that hall. He
was gambling. He did not look up. His brow was somber and dark.
She approached--stood behind him. Some of the players spoke to her,
familiarly, as was her bitter due. Then Neale turned apparently to bow
with his old courtesy. Thrill on thrill coursed over her. Always he had
showed her respect, deference.

Her heart was full. She had never before enjoyed a moment like this. She
was about to separate him from the baneful and pernicious life of the
camps--to tender him a gift of unutterable happiness--to give all of him
back to the work of the great railroad.

She put a trembling hand on his shoulder--bent over him. "Neale--come
with me," she whispered.

He shook his head.

"Yes! Yes!" she returned, her voice thrilling with emotion.

Wearily, with patient annoyance, he laid down his cards and looked up.
His dark eyes held faint surprise and something that she thought might
be pity.

"Miss Stanton--pardon me--but please understand--No!"

Then he turned and, picking up his cards, resumed the game.

Beauty Stanton suffered a sudden vague check. It was as if a cold
thought was trying to enter a warm and glowing mind. She found speech
difficult. She could not get off the track of her emotional flight. Her
woman's wit, tact, knowledge of men, would not operate.

"Neale!... Come with--me!" she cried, brokenly. "There's--"

Some men laughed coarsely. That did not mean anything to Stanton until
she saw how it affected Neale. His face flushed red and his hands
clenched the cards.

"Say, Neale," spoke up this brutal gamester, with a sneer, "never mind
us. Go along with your lady friend... You're ahead of the game--as I
reckon she sees."

Neale threw the cards in the man's face; then, rising, he bent over to
slap him so violently as to knock him off his chair.

The crash stilled the room. Every man turned to watch.

Neale stood up, his right arm down, menacingly. The gambler arose,
cursing, but made no move to draw a weapon.

Beauty Stanton could not, to save her life, speak the words she wanted
to say. Something impeding, totally unexpected, seemed to have arisen.

"Neale--come with--me!" was all s