"Go to it, Steve! Even you and I salaam when he speaks in that tone, don't we, Mrs. Jerry?"
The sun had dropped behind the mountains; fields and foot-hills lay luminous and still as Courtlandt drove the roadster past the corral at the Double O. A bunch of horses was being turned into the pastures for the night feed. They nipped, they kicked, they rolled. The riders who were driving them out tolerated their antics patiently, with an occasional admonitory "Hi-yew!" Jerry turned to look after them.
"I wish Peg could have seen that. In this light, in their broad-brimmed hats, their colored neckerchiefs, their gloves, their costumes are picturesque. They would have satisfied even her craving for local color."
Courtlandt drove on to the ranch-house without answering. It had been a silent ride home. Jerry had been tensely apprehensive of what might be coming when they started, but as the man beside her drove steadily with only an occasional inquiry as to her comfort, she had relaxed and allowed her thoughts to drift.
Steve followed her into the living-room. As she opened the door of her boudoir he spoke from where he stood under his mother's portrait.
"Come here, Jerry! Please——" he added with a smile as she hesitated.
"I must dress for dinner. I——"
"There is plenty of time. I want to talk to you. Come here!" As a safe and sane compromise she took refuge behind the back of the wing-chair.
"Well?" she queried defensively.
With startling suddenness he caught her hands and drew her to the hearth beside him.