“I didn’t know any woman could have such a grip.” He thoughtfully took her biceps in his left hand. “You are magnificent.” Then, in ironical protest, he added: “Good God, no! I can’t have you come into my family. You’d make caricatures of my wife and daughters. Are all the girls out in the valley like you?”
She laughed. “No. Most of them pride themselves on not being horsewomen. Mighty few of ’em ever ride a horse. I’m a kind of a tomboy to them.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. It’s the same old story. I suppose they’d all like to live in the city and wear low-necked gowns and high-heeled shoes. No, I can’t consent to your marriage with my son. I must save you from corruption. Go back to the ranch. I can see already signs of your deterioration. Except for your color and that grip you already look like upper Broadway. The next thing will be a slit skirt and a diamond garter.”
She flushed redly, conscious of her new corset, her silk stockings, and her pinching shoes. “It’s all on the outside,” she declared. “Under this toggery I’m the same old trailer. It don’t take long to get rid of these things. I’m just playing a part to-day—for you.”
He smiled and dropped her hand. “No, no. You’ve said good-by to the cinch, I can see that. You’re on the road to opera boxes and limousines. What is your plan? What would you advise Wayland to do if you knew I was hard against his marrying you? Come, now, I can see you’re a clear-sighted individual. What can he do to earn a living? How will you live without my aid? Have you figured on these things?”
“Yes; I’m going to ask my father to buy a ranch near here, where mother can have more of the comforts of life, and where we can all live together till Wayland is able to stand city life again. Then, if you want him to go East, I will go with him.”
They had moved slowly back toward the others, and as Wayland came to meet them Norcross said, with dry humor: “I admire your lady of the cinch hand. She seems to be a person of singular good nature and most uncommon shrewd—”
Wayland, interrupting, caught at his father’s hand and wrung it frenziedly. “I’m glad—”
“Here! Here!” A look of pain covered the father’s face. “That’s the fist she put in the press.”
They all laughed at his joke, and then he gravely resumed. “I say I admire her, but it’s a shame to ask such a girl to marry an invalid like you. Furthermore, I won’t have her taken East. She’d bleach out and lose that grip in a year. I won’t have her contaminated by the city.” He mused deeply while looking at his son. “Would life on a wheat-ranch accessible to this hotel by motor-car be endurable to you?”