CHAPTER XXIII
STEVE RIDES BY THE TEMPLE PLACE
"Dear me, Mr. Man! How savage you do look!"
Steve started and whirled. No; this time he was not dreaming. It was Terry.
Terry laughed lightly, deliciously. She had grown prettier. She had learned a new way to smile. No, it was just the old way, after all. But she had discovered a new way to do her hair, an amazingly charming way. Her lips were redder than ever before; her eyes were gayer and grayer and softer and sweeter. Her voice tinkled with new, thrilling music. She was just exactly perfect in Steve Packard's eyes.
"You're super," said Steve. "You're superlative. You haven't done a thing all these long, weary months except grow more devilishly attractive."
"Are you as savage as you looked?" she asked swiftly.
For a brief instant he turned his eyes away from her and gazed after a herd that was moving slowly toward the north, Barbee and the other boys heading again toward the home range. But, no matter what rage and sullen chagrin lay in his heart, his eyes, returning to Terry, showed that already her coming had worked its change. He appeared almost content.
"Are you going to shake hands?" he asked.