It's a shame how
human nature has got mixed up since then, isn't it? There isn't a
'my-lady' in all those books who could bust a cow-pony or run a
ranch like Las Palmas. Say, Judge, how'd you like to have to live
with a perfect lady?"
"Don't try your damned hog-Latin on me," chided the lawyer.
"Alaire Austin's romance is sadder than any of those novels."
Dave nodded. "But she doesn't cry about it." Then he asked,
gravely: "Why didn't she pick a real fellow, who'd kneel and kiss
the hem of her dress and make a man of himself? That's what she
wants--love and sacrifice, and lots of both. If I were Ed Austin
I'd wear her glove in my bosom and treat her like those queens in
the stories. Incense and adoration and---"
"What's the matter with you?" queried the judge.
"I guess I'm lonesome."
"Are you smitten with that girl?"
Dave laughed. "Maybe! Who wouldn't be? Why doesn't she divorce
that bum--she could do it easy enough--and then marry a chap who
could run Las Palmas for her?"
"A man about six feet three or four," acidly suggested the judge.
"That's the picture I have in mind."
"You think you could run Las Palmas?"
"I wouldn't mind trying.
Pages:
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171