“If I don’t get my own way.”
“Exactly. But I wish your way marched with mine. I’ve missed you like fury—Say!—here’s an idea: I’ll go back to Europe with you now if you like, and stay until you marry. There are lots of places we planned to go to and didn’t——”
“Ida, you are a dear! And you longed so for Butte. Why it would be like tearing an author from his unfinished magnum opus. Besides—well—you have a husband——”
“Oh, Lord! Gregory is running the Universe at present. Women don’t exist for him. Shall we go?”
Ora shook her head. Her face had turned from white to pale. “No. I must spend these last months of my freedom here in my state. And that lost vein—it pulls me. I must have that life for a few months—for the first and last time. You—you—might spend your week-ends with me.”
Ida scowled and turned away her head. She had no intention of admitting even to Ora that Gregory deliberately avoided her. “Not I. I hate the sight of the De Smet ranch. Go, if you like, but I feel sure you will come in often. And before you go I wish you would do me a favour.”
“Of course I will.”
“Let me give you a dinner. I want to begin that sort of thing and you’ll furnish the excuse besides helping me out.”
“Very well. Have it soon. I want to go to the mine as quickly as possible. I shall begin to send out the furniture for my bungalow tomorrow.”
“A week’s notice will be enough. I’ll write the invitations today. There’s another reason I want to give this dinner. Gregory hasn’t been seen anywhere with me—hates going out. But I shall make him understand that he must come to my first dinner—or people will be talking—and I hate people prying into my affairs. Besides, it will be his duty to you as the wife of his best friend. (He needn’t know you’ve left Mark yet awhile.) I’m not hankering for the rôle of the neglected wife; and I’m sick of making excuses. For all Butte knew I might not have laid eyes on my husband since my return.”