"So long ago," he retorted with jovial humour, "that you wouldn't have known me."
An impulse of curiosity urged her to an utterly irrelevant response. "I wonder if you have known many women?" She felt that she should like to hear his story from him, there in the deserted yard; but when he answered her, he revealed a personal reticence worthy of the aristocratic traditions of Mrs. Carr. "Oh, I haven't had time for them," he replied indifferently.
"Perhaps there aren't so many in Bonanza City?"
"Oh, there're plenty," he rejoined gaily, "if you take the trouble to look for them."
"And you didn't?" They had entered the house, and she spoke merrily as she crossed to the staircase.
"Well, the sort I found didn't take my fancy, you see!" he tossed back playfully from his door.
Her foot was on the lowest step, when, hesitating with a birdlike movement, she looked at him over her right shoulder.
"Well, that's a pity. A woman could have told you a good many things," she observed.
"For instance?" He was still jesting.
Poised for flight, she gazed back at him, challenging his eyes.