CHAPTER IX
THE DESTROYER
While the men were eating that night another rider had come to H.C. He entered slowly, tied his horse to the fence and walked down along the cottonwoods toward the house. He stood outside a time, looking through the window at Jane whose golden head was bowed in the mellow glow of the student lamp as she worked at her desk.
He stepped lightly across the veranda and rapped; at her bidding he entered.
"Dick!" she exclaimed.
"Undoubtedly," he said, with forced attempt at lightness.
"How did you get here? Why come at this time of day?"—rising and walking toward him.
"I rode a horse, and I came because I couldn't stay away from you any longer."
She looked at him, head tilted a bit to one side, and genuine regret was in her slow smile.
"Oh, Dick, don't look or feel like that! I'm glad to see you, but I wish you'd stop thinking and talking and looking like that. I don't like to have you so dreadfully determined ... when it's no use.