“That’s all there was between us! Smell it!” The room reeked of orange blossoms. “She made it for me nights, to make some extra money. It’s the kind you kep’ a picture of from a fashion book. I got it off your dresser. Do you--do you like it, Rosie?” She tried to speak, but could only nod her head. He patted her shoulder awkwardly. The dress swam before her eyes like a pane of blue glass in the rain. “It’s goin’ to be the swellest weddin’,” he said huskily, “that little old Gray Dome ever seen. An’ then--” he cleared his throat with a rumble like summer thunder--“we’re goin’ to Denver an’ buy a house on Capitol Hill an’ the finest auto in town, an’ a nigger to run it an’ drive around an’ tell ’em all to go to hell!” [Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the July 1, 1928 issue of Adventure magazine.]