"We shall ride out again some time," she said, and gave him her hand.
He closed his big hand over her fingers for a moment without speaking. When he was about to turn away she clung still to his hand and looked at him very earnestly.
"Why don't you sometimes talk a little?" she asked.
The abruptness with which she asked the question brought the slow smile back to King's face.
"I'm not good at talking," he replied. "Besides—I like to hear you talk."
King had not ventured before in their short acquaintance to offer a compliment. He did not mean to compliment her now. He was speaking his mind simply, directly, sincerely.
She regarded him strangely for a moment in silence.
"Sometimes," she said at last, "sometimes I think—"
She paused a moment and then withdrew her hand suddenly and wheeling her horse about went off at a gallop down the trail, leaving him gazing after her in wonderment.
When she had passed out of sight he looked once at the clouds before getting into the saddle and then, getting up, he gave a sharp whistle that brought Sal bounding to him, and set off along the trail that led to town. Behind him the storm was coming up rapidly.