Then I turned to Sally. She had slipped off the bed to her
knees and was holding out trembling hands as if both to supplicate mercy
and to ward me off. She was as white as the pillow on her bed. She was
terribly frightened. Again with warning hand commanding silence I
stepped softly forward, meaning to reassure her.
"Russ! Russ!" she whispered wildly, and I thought she was going to
faint. When I got close and looked into her eyes I understood the
strange dark expression in them. She was terrified because she believed
I meant to kill her, or do worse, probably worse. She had believed many
a hard story about me and had cared for me in spite of them. I
remembered, then, that she had broken her promise, she had tempted me,
led me to kiss her, made a fool out of me. I remembered, also how I had
threatened her. This intrusion of mine was the wild cowboy's vengeance.
I verily believed she thought I was drunk. I must have looked pretty
hard and fierce, bursting into her room with that big gun in hand. My
first action then was to lay the gun on her bureau.
"You poor kid!" I whispered, taking her hands and trying to raise her.
But she stayed on her knees and clung to me.
"Russ! It was vile of me," she whispered.
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