"I don't know what he ever saw in you to make him think you'd make a ranchman," Ruth exclaimed. "I can't imagine you as a cowboy. I suppose," she added excusingly, "that he's always been used to an out-door life and it seems rather dreadful to him for any one to be shut up in a book-store."
"It is rather dreadful."
Ruth gave a little start. For a moment she was under an impression that she had not heard Nelson aright, or else that he was joking. And yet his voice had no suggestion of humor. It was hoarse and curiously intense, and as she looked at him, she saw that his face was unnaturally flushed.
"Why, Nelson," she cried, "What are you talking about? You can't mean that you don't like your work."
Nelson looked at her appealingly. Without realizing it, Ruth had spoken in a rather peremptory fashion, and at once his sensitive face showed his fear of having offended her.
"I used to think I liked it, Ruth."
"Used to! Why, Nelson—"
"But now it's like being in a strait jacket. I don't see how any fellow who was in the service can ever get back to standing behind a counter and be satisfied."
Again Ruth noticed the curious intensity of his manner. She looked at the letter lying upon the table with a feeling of irritation she did not stop to analyze.
"Nelson, you don't mean you want to take that offer? You wouldn't really like to go to Oklahoma, would you? Why it's the jumping-off place."