Others had noted these things. Men do. Yes, and most women, too. Springy step, well-rounded ankles, glorious body, the touch of color in the cheeks glowing against her black hair—they all spoke of youth, of rare vitality. Here was a human being come thus far from the Master’s mold unmarred. And this in a rough country. It was no mean compliment to Jackson Kent.
Poor Johnny! He sensed these things and felt himself ugly, awkward, hopeless before her. At this moment he would have fought any man so rash as to claim that she could ever care for his unworthy self.
Taking pity on Johnny, Molly ended his misery by breaking the spell which held him.
“I thought you were going to strike that old man,” she said half seriously. “I’d like to know what you are doing down here.”
“Business,” Johnny answered dryly.
“Well, the Diamond-Bar is shipping from Standing Rock, isn’t it?”
Molly’s eyes held his provokingly.
“It is,” Johnny drawled nervously.
“But you’re not. Is that what you are trying to say, Mr. Dice?”
Johnny nodded his head ever so slightly. The smile left Molly’s eyes.