" The cop twisted his fingers
under Cork's collar. "Come on!" he ordered roughly.
Cork glanced at Ruby. She was pale, and her thin nostrils quivered.
Her quick eye danced from one man's face to the other as they spoke or
moved. What hard luck! Cork was thinking--Corrigan on the briny; and
Ruby met and lost almost within an hour! Somebody at the police station
would recognize him, without a doubt. Hard luck!
But suddenly the girl sprang up and hurled herself with both arms
extended against the cop. His hold on Cork's collar was loosened and he
stumbled back two or three paces.
"Don't go so fast, Maguire!" she cried in shrill fury. "Keep your hands
off my man! You know me, and you know I'm givin' you good advice. Don't
you touch him again! He's not the guy you are lookin' for--I'll stand
for that."
"See here, Fanny," said the Cop, red and angry, "I'll take you, too, if
you don't look out! How do you know this ain't the man I want? What are
you doing in here with him?"
"How do I know?" said the girl, flaming red and white by turns. "Because
I've known him a year. He's mine. Oughtn't I to know? And what am I
doin' here with him? That's easy."
She stooped low and reached down somewhere into a swirl of flirted
draperies, heliotrope and black.
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