"My husband? You know? Oh, of course you know." She gazed affrightedly upon me. "To Montoyo, you say? Him? No, no! I can't! Oh, I can't, I can't." She wrung her hands, she held me fast. "And I know where you're going. To that wagon train. Mr. Jenks has engaged you. You will bull-whack to Salt Lake? You? Don't! Please don't. There's no need of it." "I am done with Benton, and with Benton's society, madam," I insisted. "I have learned my lesson, believe me, and I'm no longer a 'gudgeon.'" "You never were," said she. "Not that. And you don't have to turn bull-whacker or mule-skinner either. It's a hard life; you're not fitted for it--never, never. Leave Benton if you will. I hate it myself. And let us go together." "Madam!" I rapped; and drew back, but she clung to me. "Listen, listen! Don't mistake me again. Last night was enough. I want to go. I must go. We can travel separately, then; I will meet you anywhere--Denver, Omaha, Chicago, New York, anywhere you say--anywhere----" "Your husband, madam," I prompted. "He might have objections to parting with you." "Montoyo? That snake--you fear that snake? He is no husband to me. I could kill him--I will do it yet, to be free from him." "My good name, then," I taunted. "I might fear for my good name more than I'd fear a man." "I have a name of my own," she flashed, "although you may not know it." "I have been made acquainted with it," I answered roundly. "No, you haven't. Not the true. You know only another." Her tone became humbler. "But I'm not asking you to marry me," she said. "I'm not asking you to love me as a paramour, sir. Please understand. Treat me as you will; as a sister, a friend, but anything human. Only let me have your decent regard until I can get 'stablished in new quarters. I can help you," she pursued eagerly. "Indeed I can help you if you stay in the West. Yes, anywhere, for I know life. Oh, I'm so tired of myself; I can't run true, I'm under false colors. You saw how the trainmen curried favor all along the line, how familiar they were, how I submitted--I even dropped that coin a-purpose in the Omaha station, for _you_, just to test you. Those things are expected of me and I've felt obliged to play my part. Men look upon me as a tool to their hands, to make them or break them. All they want is my patronage and the secrets of the gaming table. And there is Montoyo--bullying me, cajoling me, watching me. But you were different, after I had met you. I foolishly wished to help you, and last night the play went wrong. Why did I take you to his table? Because I think myself entitled, sir," she said on, bridling a little, defiant of my gaze, "to promote my friends when I have any. I did not mean that you should wager heavily for you. Montoyo is out for large stakes. There is safety in small and I know his system. You remember I warned you? I did warn you. I saw too late. You shall have all your money back again. And Montoyo struck me--_me_, in public! That is the end.