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Updated: October 12, 2026
"Say, that favorite looks good," he remarked to a young fellow next to him. "Good," echoed the youth; "well, I should say he is good. He 's cherry-ripe, and he 'll gallop in. If I had a thousand dollars, and did n't know where I was goin' to eat to-night, I 'd put it all on him.
I am going to Guy by the next boat." "Not you!" laughed Preston. "You're in a paddy just now, my dear, but when you've thought it over soberly you'll find there are a good many little obstacles in the way of that. You haven't been brought up to rough it for one. And Guy Ranger, as I think we settled last night, has probably married half a dozen blacks already. It's too great a risk, Cherry-ripe!
Her skin was of warm olive hue, with tinges of red in the cheeks and the lips cherry-ripe. Her eyes were dark brown, large, melting, childishly introspective. Her hands were shapely, and her little bare feet, arched, rosy-nailed, were like flowers on the sand. She wore the thinnest of sheer white cotton tunics, and there were flamboyant flowers in the shining dark hair that tumbled to her waist.