Duncan’s eyes lighted with interest. Her words showed that she was aware of Langford’s differences with the nester. Probably her father had told her—taking her into his confidence while ignoring his manager. Perhaps he had even told her of his visit to Dakota; perhaps there had been more than one visit and Sheila had accompanied him. Undoubtedly, he told himself, Sheila’s admiration for Dakota had resulted from not one, but many, meetings. He flushed at the thought, and was forced to look away from Sheila for fear that she might see the passion that flamed in his eyes.
“You seen Dakota lately?” he questioned, after he had regained sufficient control of himself to be able to speak quietly.
“No.” Sheila was flecking some dust from her skirts with her riding whip, and her manner was one of absolute lack of interest.
“Then you ain’t been riding with your father?” said Duncan.
“Some.” Sheila continued to brush the dust from her skirts. After answering Duncan’s question, however, she realized that there had been a subtle undercurrent of meaning in his voice, and she turned and looked sharply at him.
“Why?” she demanded. “Do you mean that father has visited Dakota?”
“I reckon I’m meaning just that.”
Sheila did not like the expression in Duncan’s eyes, and her chin was raised a little as she turned from him and gave her attention to flecking the grass near her with the lash of her riding whip.
“Father attends to his own business,” she said with some coldness, for she resented Duncan’s apparent desire to interfere. “I told you that before. What he does in a business way does not interest me.”
“No?” said Duncan mockingly. “Well, he’s made some sort of a deal with Dakota!” he snapped, aware of his lack of wisdom in telling her this, but unable to control his resentment over the slight which had been imposed on him by Langford, and by her own chilling manner, which seemed to emphasize the fact that he had been left outside their intimate councils.