Steadfastly she regarded him a moment longer. Steve and Uncle Eb sat breathless.
“Let me ask you somethin’,” she returned. “If Steve had got sent back down-river you’d never have asked me this, would you?”
“Why—if I still thought you and he were sweethearts—probably not. It wouldn’t be fair to either of you.”
“Was that what you meant when you spoke ’bout Steve—that day up the crick?”
“Certainly. What did you think?”
“I thought all ’long you—didn’t want to git too thick with a girl that was a—a half sister to a feller that had been into the pen! That you couldn’t have enough respect for a girl like that to—to—you know. And it—kind of hurt.”
“Good Lord! I never even knew you two were brought up under the same roof, until the night your mother—that is, ’Liza Oaks—died. If I had, maybe I’d have asked sooner!”
The cool gray eyes grew warm. The red lips curved in a dimpling smile. But his question remained unanswered. Her gaze went to the waiting packs and guns. Outside, a horse stamped impatiently.
“Ain’t it about time to be goin’?” she asked demurely. “That hoss of Uncle Eb’s is gittin’ restless. Uncle Eb, you’d better git the cats into the bags.”
“But ye ain’t told Hamp——” Steve protested.