"Not at all. I went West when I was a kid, and I've seen quite a bit of country. Then, when I had money enough, I put it into land, and went to ranching. That's all there is to it."
She was quite certain, somehow, that there was a great deal more to it. She fell to studying his hands. The fingers were long and slender, but flat, sinewy, and powerful. They seemed to express tenacity of purpose, a grip of whatever they undertook. Once more she looked at his profile, and again she was struck by an elusive familiarity.
"You remind me of somebody—of something," she said. "I can't place it."
"Indeed!" he responded. "Now, I hope the unplaced recollection is not unpleasant."
"It's not definite enough. But it is there. It's not so much when you face me—it's the side view. I've never met you before, of course."
"Of course not," he agreed, but his eyes laughed at her.
"Have I?" she exclaimed. "Surely not! I'm not forgetful, as a rule."
"I was wondering," he said, "if you would remember me. I knew you at once, but I can't claim the honour of having been presented before to-night. Our acquaintance, if I may call it that, was very informal."
"But when—where?" she demanded. "I don't recall——"
"Well, it's not surprising," he admitted. "I was dressed differently. Naturally you wouldn't expect to see me in these." He glanced down at his evening clothes. "The fact is, I sat across the aisle from you in the car when——"