She's good and true, as you say; as true as steel.

Why, think of it: a slip of a girl, scarcely out of her teens, facing, alone, a madman, with a revolver! The sight of the thing gave her the horrors, I could see; but there she stood, firm as a rock, pleading, arguing, insisting, until she'd saved the silly fool.

A girl like that is--oh, I can't talk about her.

And, what's it matter?
I shall never see her again.

Besides, it isn't possible that a girl so beautiful, so charming, should be free for long.