But my!--he's got one temper." The talk wandered on, a monologue on Mary's part, that centered always on Bert Wanhope.
"You and he are pretty thick," Saxon ventured.
"I'd marry'm to-morrow," Mary flashed out impulsively.

Then her face went bleakly forlorn, hard almost in its helpless pathos.

"Only, he never asks me.

He's..." Her pause was broken by sudden passion.

"You watch out for him, Saxon, if he ever comes foolin' around you.