Joan did not look at him as he drew nearer with his words. She pulled the stirrup down, lifted her foot to it, and stood so a second, hand on the pommel to mount. And so she glanced round at him, standing near her shoulder, his face flushed, a brightness in his eyes. Quicker than thought Reid threw his arm about her shoulders, drawing her to him, his hot cheek against her own, his hot breath on her lips. Surging with indignation of the mean advantage he had taken of her, Joan freed her foot from the stirrup, twisting away from the impending salute, her hand to Reid's shoulder in a shove that sent him back staggering. "I thought you were more of a man than that!" she said. "I beg your pardon, Joan; it rushed over me--I couldn't help it." Reid's voice shook as he spoke; he stood with downcast eyes, the expression of contrition. "You're too fresh to keep!" Joan said, brushing her face savagely with her hand where his cheek had pressed it for a breath. "I'll ask you next time," he promised, looking up between what seemed hope and contrition. But there was a mocking light in his sophisticated face, a greedy sneer in his lustful eyes, which Joan could feel and see, although she could not read to the last shameful depths. "Don't try it any more," she warned, in the cool, even voice of one sure of herself. "I ought to have a right to kiss my future wife," he defended, a shadow of a smile on his thin lips. "There's not a bit of use to go on harping on that, Earl," she said, in a way of friendly counsel, the incident already past and trampled under foot, it seemed. "If you want to stay here and work for dad, three years or thirty years, I don't care, but don't count on me. I guess if you go straight and prove you deserve it, you'll not need any girl to help you get the money." "It's got to be you--nobody else, Joan." "Then kiss your old million--or whatever it is--good-bye!" Joan lifted to the saddle as if swept into it by a wave, and drew her reins tight, and galloped away. CHAPTER XXI TIM SULLIVAN BREAKS A CONTRACT "And that will be the end of it," said Tim Sullivan, finality in his tone, his face stern, his manner severe. "I've passed my word to old Malcolm that you'll have his boy, and have him you will." "Boy!" said Joan. "In experience he's no lad, and I'm glad you've discovered it," said Tim, warming a little, speaking with more softness, not without admiration for her penetration. "He'll be the better able to look after you, and see they don't get his money away from him like some simpleton." "Oh, they'll get it, all right."