"That's the thing I don't like about you," she burst out passionately, "you never think about anybody else. You always resort to violence. And just because you can walk in on Mr. McBain——"
"Ah!" exclaimed Rimrock, leaning forward accusingly; but she scorned to meet his stare.
"—just because you can terrorize him with that pistol you carry——"
"So that's what's the matter," went on Rimrock significantly, "you're thinking about Andy McBain!"
"Mr. Jones!" she burst out, bringing the auto to a stop, "I guess this has gone far enough. Will you walk to town, or shall I?"
"Neither one," he said quietly, taking over the wheel, "I'll drive you to the hotel myself."
"Very well," she said and sat back white with anger as mile after mile sped past.
"Here you are," he said as he slowed down at the Gunsight and suddenly she was her old, sweet self.
"Thank you very much," she said, stepping gracefully out of the car; "the country was very beautiful." And she went smilingly in through the door.
Rimrock Jones sat silent, struck dumb by her manner, so different from her cold, silent wrath; and then he caught a flash of movement on the veranda. She was hiding their quarrel from the women!