“Nor do ordinary women try to shake off ennui by coming West in private cars,” he drawled.
She started and looking quickly at him. “How did you know that was what happened to me?” she demanded.
“Because you’re too spirited and vigorous to spend your life dawdling in society. You yearn for action, for the broad, free life of the open. You’re in love with this country right now.”
“Yes, yes,” she said, astonished; “but how do you know?”
“You might have sent a man here in your place—Braman, for instance; he could be trusted. You came yourself, eager for adventure—you came on a borrowed horse. When you were looking at the country from the horse in front of my house, I saw you sigh.”
“Well,” she said, with flushed face and glowing eyes; “I have decided to live out here—for a time, at least. So you were watching me?”
“Just a glance,” he defended, grinning; “I couldn’t help it. Please forgive me.”
“I suppose I’ll have to,” she laughed, delighted, reveling in this freedom of speech, in his directness. His manner touched a spark somewhere in her, she felt strangely elated, exhilarated. When she reflected that this was only their second meeting and that she had not been conventionally introduced to him, she was amazed. Had a stranger of her set talked to her so familiarly she would have resented it. Out here it seemed to be perfectly natural.
“How do you know I borrowed a horse to come here?” she asked.
“That’s easy,” he grinned; “there’s the Diamond K brand on his hip.”