For, she thought
regretfully as she hurried out into the street, they had been getting
along so nicely. . . .
She had no business out alone at this time of night and she knew it.
So she hurried on, anxious to get home before her father, who was
returning late from a visit to one of his ranches. Abreast of the Casa
Blanca she slowed up, looking in curiously. Then, as again she was
hastening on, she heard Jim Galloway's deep voice in a quiet "Good
evening, Miss Florence."
"Good evening!" gasped Florrie aloud. And "Oh!" said Florrie under her
breath. For Galloway's figure had separated itself from the shadows at
the side of his open door and had come out into the street, while
Galloway was saying in a matter-of-fact way: "I'll see you home."
She wanted to run and could not. She hung a moment balancing upon a
high heel in indecision. Galloway stepped forward swiftly, coming to
her side. "Oh, dear," the inner Florrie was saying. A glance over her
shoulder showed her Black Bill standing out in front of Struve's hotel.
Well, there were compensations.
She started to hurry on, and had Jim Galloway been less sure of
himself, troubled with the diffidence of youth as was Elmer, he must
have either given over his purpose or else fairly run to keep up with
her.
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