"Love me, love my dog," she laughed. "I'd have to love you a lot. Perhaps it will improve on acquaintance." She crossed her feet and settled more comfortably in her chair, while Jeff watched her shrewdly.
"You can't mean you want to stay here?" he asked.
"I don't know. That depends on you. I've told you the sentimental side of my journey. Actually I'm a practical young female, with a prudent eye for an investment." And when her companion smiled, "Are you laughing because you think I'm not practical—or because you think I'm not prudent?"
"I'd hardly call you either. In fact, I don't know what to think. You don't seem to belong, somehow."
"Why not? Once you said I spoke out like Mesa City."
"But you don't look like Mesa City."
"Horrors!" preening her hair, "I hope not."
Jeff leaned back in his chair with folded arms and examined her—his eyes narrowing critically. She had given two explanations of her presence, neither of which in itself seemed sufficient. The real explanation, he was forced to admit, lay in the presence itself. She bore his scrutiny calmly, examining him with frank interest.
"What is it you don't understand?" she asked him, answering the question in his eyes with another. "Me? Oh, you'll have to give it up. There isn't any answer. I'm something between a sibyl and a sphinx. You thought you'd guessed me in New York, but you hadn't, you see. I'm neither what you thought I was, nor what you thought I ought to be. I'm the spirit of Self-Will. I do as I choose. I thought I'd like to see you, and so I came—Voilà."
"I don't know what you can expect here. The accommodations at the hotel——"