His face darkened again, and she hastened to say, "The cattle business is going to boom again soon. They're all dropping out of it fast, but now is the time to get in and buy."
The beer came and interrupted her. "Here's to good luck," she said. They drank, and as she daintily touched her lips with her handkerchief she lifted her eyes to him again—strange eyes with lovely green and yellow and pink lights in them not unlike some semi-precious stones.
"You don't like me," she said. "Why won't you let me help you?"
"You want a square-toed answer?" he asked grimly, looking her steadily in the eyes.
She paled a little. "Yes."
"There is a girl in Iowa—I make it my business to work for her."
Her eyes fell and her right hand slowly turned the mug around and around. When she looked up she seemed older and her eyes were sadder. "That need make no difference."
"But it does," he said slowly. "It makes all the difference there is."
She became suddenly very humble. "You misunderstand me—I mean, I'll help you both. How do you expect to live?"
His eyes fell now. He flushed and shifted uneasily in his chair. "I don't know." Then he unbent a little in saying, "That's what's bothering me right now."