At the entrance of the house she met the soft-voiced twin just coming in search of her.
"He's out there hisself with his outfit," he said disgustedly. "Thought it wasn't safe fer me to drive his blame horses, I reckon!"
She looked out and saw Livingston standing beside his team in the road. He was waiting for her. When she approached, his fine eyes brightened, but hers were gloomy—indifferent.
"Come," he said, laughing, holding out his hand to her. "You did not think I would miss such an opportunity to get to see you! I haven't pleased you, but this time I thought to please myself."
"I was in such a predicament," she cried, ignoring his hand, but forgetting her momentary displeasure. "A guest from the ranch, and no place to put her. Then I thought of Sydney's, and that new tent, so we're all going over there. I sent for your buggy, because Mrs. Van Rensselaer has ridden a long ways, is all tired out—but I didn't mean to put you to so much trouble."
"Is it a trouble to see you?" he asked. "If it is, I want a great deal of just that kind of trouble."
"I'll go in and get her," she said quickly. "If you will drive her over there, Louisa and I can go horseback."
He assented in few words, happy to do her bidding.
She started toward the house, then turned back absent-mindedly, as though she had forgotten something that she was striving to recall. Finally she gave a little short laugh, and held out her hand. "You are very kind," she said, looking at him squarely.
He did not reply, but held the proffered hand, drinking in the language of her eyes. She withdrew it slowly, as if loath to take it from his warm clasp, then flashing him one of her brilliant smiles turned once more and went quickly back to the house.