“I don't think our patient can afford the expense. Hennage frisked him and all the money--” “Thank you, I will attend to the financial side of this case, Doctor Taylor.” Mr. Hennage turned from his survey of the patio. “Doc,” he complained, “it's time for you to move out o' San Pasqual. You've stayed too long already. You're gettin' the San Pasqual sperrit, Doc. You ain't got no sympathy for a stranger.” “Well, you don't expect me to put up twenty-five a week and railroad fare--” “Never mind worryin' about what you've got to put up with, Doc. If you know all the things I put up with--thanks, Doc. Hurry back, and don't forget to 'phone for that nurse.” “Ain't it marvelous how a small camp always narrers the point o' view?” the gambler observed when the doctor had gone. “Always thinkin' o' themselves an' money, A man in my business, Miss Donna, soon learns that mighty few men--an' women, too--will stand the acid. That young feller inside (he jerked a fat thumb over his shoulder) will stand it. I know. I've applied the acid. An' you'll stand the acid, too,” he added--“when Mrs. Pennycook hears you kissed Bob McGraw. Ouch! That woman's tongue drips corrosive sublimate.” Donna blushed furiously. “You--you--won't tell, will you, Mr. Hennage?” “Of course not. But that chuckleheaded roughneck O'Rourke will. Why did you kiss him? I ain't one o' the presumin' kind, but I'd like to know, Miss Donna.” “I kissed him”--Donna commenced to cry and hid her burning face in her hands. “I kissed him because--because--I thought he was dying--and he was the first man--that looked at--me so different. And he was so brave, Mr. Hennage--” “That you thought he was a man an' worth the kiss, eh, Miss Donna?” “I guess that's the explanation” she confessed, the while she marveled inwardly that she should feel such relief at unburdening her secret to the worst man in San Pasqual. “If some good woman had only done that for me” the gambler murmured a little wistfully. “If she only had! But of course this young Bob, he's different from--what I was at his age--” “I couldn't help it” Donna sobbed; “he's one of the presuming kind.” Harley P. sat down and laughed until his three gold teeth almost threatened to fall out. “God bless your sweet soul, Miss Donna,” he gasped, “go in and kiss him again! He needs you worse than he does a nurse. Go in an' kiss the presumin' cuss.” “You're making fun of me” Donna charged. “I'm not. Can't a low-down, no-account man like me even laugh where there's happiness? Why, if that young feller goes to work an' spoils it all by kickin' the bucket, I'd die o' grief.” “You know him, do you not?” “I should say so.” “Is he--” “Yes, he's the nicest kind of a boy.” “How old is he!” “Twenty-eight.” Donna was thoughtful. “Nice disparity in ages, don't you think, Miss Donna?” Donna blushed again. “What is his business!” she asked.