“I hope so,” said he, gazing earnestly into her face.
Her eyes would not stand; they retreated, and a rush of blood spread over her cheeks like the reserve of an army covering its withdrawal from the field.
“I feel like I had just begun to live,” he declared.
“I didn’t see you arrive this morning,” she told him, “for I turned and went away from the land-office when they opened the window. I couldn’t stand it to see that man Peterson take what belonged to you.”
He looked at her curiously.
“But you don’t ask me where I was those two days,” said he.
“You’ll tell me–if you want me to know,” she smiled.
“When I returned to the Hotel Metropole, even more ragged and discreditable-appearing than I was when you saw me this morning,” he resumed, “the proprietor’s wife asked me where I’d been. I told her I had been on a trip to hell, and the farther that experience is behind me the stronger my conviction that I defined it right.
“When I left you that night after we came back from the river, I went out to look for young Walker, all blazing up, in my old-time way of grabbing at things like a bullfrog at a piece of flannel, over what you had said about a man not always having the sense and the courage to take hold of his chances when they presented. 192
“Walker had talked to me about going in with him on his sheep-ranch, under the impression, I suppose, that I had money to invest. Well, I hadn’t any, as you know, but I got the notion that Walker might set me up with a flock of sheep, like they do in this country, to take care of on shares. I had recovered entirely from my disappointment in failing to draw a claim, as I thought, knowing nothing about the mistake in telephoning the names over.