When his horse was at the door, he strolled into the saloon where he found the girl alone in the bar.
"I'm a very sad man, to-day, my dear," he said, and his melancholy became him.
The girl blushed prettily.

"Still," she said, "whenever you want to, you can come back again." "If I did would you be pleased to see me ?" "Of course!" said the girl.

"Now, you wait a minute, and I'll give you something to remember me by.

I don't mix this up for everybody." She busied herself with certain decanters and essences, and Courthorne held the glass she handed him high.
"The brightest eyes and the reddest lips between Winnipeg and the Rockies!" he said.

"This is nectar, but I would like to remember you by something sweeter still!" Their heads were not far apart when he laid down his glass, and before the girl quite knew what was happening, an arm was round her neck.
Next moment she had flung the man backwards, and stood very straight, quivering with anger and crimson in face, for Courthorne, as occasionally happens with men of his type, assumed too much, and did not always know when to stop.