Till this night he
had thought of her only casually, as merely a young girl; he was not
now consciously in love with her--her young woman-hood had burst upon
him too suddenly for such a consciousness--but a warm tingling went
through him as he gazed at her imperious, self-confident youth. Part
of his mind was thinking much the same thought that Hunt had
considered a few hours earlier: here were the makings of a magnificent
adventuress.
"Maggie," he mused, "you didn't get your looks from your father. You
must have had a fine-looking mother."
"I don't know--I never saw her," she returned shortly.
"Poor kid," Larry mused on--"and with only Old Jimmie for a father."
She did not know what to say. For a long time she had dreamed of this
man as her hero; she had dreamed of splendid adventures with him in
which she should win his praise. And now--and now--
He switched to another subject.
"So you have decided to string along with your father and Barney?"
"I have."
"Don't you do it, Maggie."
"Don't you preach, Larry."
"I'm not preaching. I'm just talking business to you. The same as I
talked business to myself. The crooked game is a poor business for a
woman who can do something else--and you can do something else. I've
known a lot of women in the crooked game.
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