"You've got him?" demanded Ireton. It seems to me just talk; it seems to me like the fancy of a dream. ‘Or do I arrest you and have these soldiers march you off to gaol?’ A sweep of his arm indicated the array of military strength on the benches, every eye of which was trained on the little scene being enacted before them. There followed a silence which endured several minutes; or, rather a tableau. She would buy a Greyhound ticket to New Orleans, make a kill or two, then travel into Texas and seduce some wandering man into taking her to Mexico, feast upon him once they got there.
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