"How did you happen to come here?" he asked.
She looked at him and a flicker as of suspicion crossed her face.
"Just come," she replied, rather evasively, he thought.
For a time they did not speak. The fire crackled dully. Steam rose in wisps from Hilton's soaked clothing and a cunning crept into his expression. The rain pattered on the roof and dripped through in several places, forming dark spots on the hard floor; the horse stamped in the mud outside.
The man saw the regular leap of the pulse in her throat and caressed his thumb with finger tips as delicately as though they stroked that smooth skin.
Her lips were parted ... and such lips! He told himself that she was more beautiful than he had first thought and as filled with contrasts as the heavens themselves. Shortly before she had been defiant, ready for trouble, prepared to defend herself with a rifle if necessary; now she was a child; that, and no more ... and she was distinctive ... quite so.
"You better stay," she said rather shyly after a time. "Alf'll be back some time before mornin'. Nobody'll know."
He shook his head.
"You and I would know, and after I've told you what I think about it, maybe you wouldn't like me if I did stay ... you've said you did like me."
He rose, smiling.