Something of that warmth toward him was in her eyes now as she watched him and she decided that she should humor his whim; that she should perform the action that he was reluctant to perform.
She smiled, with the wisdom of a woman to whom a secret had been unwittingly revealed.
“You don’t like Haydon?”
“Him an’ me ain’t goin’ to be bosom friends.”
“Why don’t you like him?” she asked banteringly.
She thought his grin was brazen. “Why don’t you like me?”
“I don’t know,” she said coldly. But her face reddened a little.
“Well,” he laughed; “that’s why I don’t like Haydon.”
Haydon had crossed the big level, and was close to the ranchhouse.
The girl had determined to remain where she was, to return the piece of chain to Haydon in the presence of Harlan—in order to learn what she could of the depth of Harlan’s dislike for Haydon when in the presence of the latter. And so a silence came between them as they watched Haydon ride toward them.