“Hands off there, will you?”
Steve did not loose his hold on her arm.
“I’m not takin’ orders from you,” he said. “Maiden, it’s your choice, now. Are yer chuckin’ him or me. Maiden?”
His voice was rough with pain, and all the love that would ever be his was in his eyes. Maiden looked on the two in the moonlight. Then she laughed.
“I’m goin’ into the dressin’-room to tidy my hair. So I don’t want either of yer. Let go, Steve! P’raps that’s my choice, and p’raps it isn’t.”
Steve turned on the man when she had left them.
“’Twouldn’t mean much ter me ter be hung s’posin’ yer was thinkin’ o’ breakin’ her heart,” he said. “Yer’d be wise ter remember that. Fur, sure’s death, I’ll never let her marry yer, an’ me livin’.”
Lou’s hands were thrust deep in his pockets, and there was a slow smile on his mouth.
“I don’t fancy you’re going to have much say in the matter, if you ask me,” he said. “I’ve got her name down four times more to-night. Can you beat that?”
Steve’s programme was a bit of blank white paper. He tore it in half and flung it on the gravel.
“I ain’t goin’ ter say anythin’ more ter her.” He paid out his words separately. “It’s you
