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Dillon gave a shout. "Glory, hallelujah!" He had been much

troubled, and his relief shone on his face. "I say, gentlemen,

that's the best news I've heard in twenty years. Let's go

celebrate it with just one."

Brandt and Hilliard joined him, but the Texan lingered.

"I reckon I'll join you later, gentlemen," he said.

While their footsteps died away he looked steadily at Arlie. Her

eyes met his and held fast. Beneath the olive of her cheeks, a

color began to glow.

He held out both his hands. The light in his eyes softened,

transfigured his hard face. "You can't help it, honey. It may not

be what you would have chosen, but it has got to be. You're

mine."

Almost beneath her breath she spoke. "You forgot--the other

girl."

"What other girl? There is none--never was one."

"The girl in the picture."

His eyes opened wide. "Good gracious! She's been married three

months to a friend of mine. Larry Neill his name is."

"And she isn't your sweetheart at all? Never was?"