“Oh,” she said, “it’s difficult to explain, but we have got used to the mode of life here: the few people we meet seem to understand our feelings, and we have learned to trust them. Strangers would rather spoil it all; in a sense, their visit would be an intrusion.”
Prescott realized that this was complimentary to him. She had made it clear that he was not a stranger, but one of the people she trusted. The effect was to render him somewhat embarrassed, but Gertrude resumed:
“I think we owe you a good deal. I don’t know what we should have done had we fallen into less considerate hands.”
“I’m yours to command,” he replied; and they walked on in silence for a while, Gertrude glancing at him unobtrusively now and then.
She did not believe her brother dead—Prescott had reassured her; and now she felt strongly attracted by the rancher. She had thrown off the restraints in which she had long acquiesced; she was driven by a passion which was rapidly overpowering her.
“You don’t suggest that the Leslies should take us all,” she said.
“No,” Prescott answered gravely; “I’d rather keep you and your father here.”
“Then you’re no longer anxious to get rid of us?”
He colored.
“That’s true. I begin to feel I’m one of the party. Then, you see, Leslie’s pretty talkative and agrees with Curtis. He might have a bad effect on your father; he might even shake your confidence.”