“Why?” she asked.
“Oh, lots of reasons.” Rock smiled. “I’ll tell you some of these days, when the dove of peace spreads her wings across this part of the world.”
“I wish you’d tell me,” she begged. “I hate mysteries. I’m getting so I go around here with my heart in my mouth, wondering what terrible thing will happen next.”
“I don’t think anything more will happen around this ranch,” Rock declared. “I’m the center of this trouble, and I’m going to take myself away from here—for a while. But I’ll be back.”
“I’ll be sorry to see you go,” she whispered. “But perhaps it’s best, if you are going to be ambushed at every turn.”
She looked down at the floor frowningly for a few seconds. Rock stared at the curve of her neck, the scarlet twist of her lips, the dark cloud of hair, and a queer breath-taking sensation stirred in him, an almost uncontrollable impulse to draw her up to him. He shook himself. Why the devil should a woman have that effect on a man? And Nona seemed to be unconscious of it—even to be irritated by the manifestation of a feeling she was the factor in arousing.
Nona got up. She looked at him with such frowning composure that Rock couldn’t meet those level gray eyes. It seemed to him they read him through and through.
“Come along to supper. It’s all ready,” she said.
Rock shook his head. “Don’t feel like eating,” he replied. “After a while I’ll have a cup of coffee, maybe; but not just now. Will Charlie be back to-night, I wonder?”