“I shouldn’t think you’d care to come over here now,” he said, curtly. “If it’s pleasant for you, it isn’t pleasant for me.”
“I hope we can be friends,” Justin urged. “I’m sure I want to be yours.”
He had not recovered his equanimity, and his face was flushed.
“Well, I don’t want to be yours! You may deny it if you want to, but you played me a mean, dirty trick. You probably had it in mind, when you put up that melodramatic exhibition at the fire.”
Justin found great difficulty in keeping his temper. Hot words burned on his trembling lips.
“I won’t talk with you, Ben,” he declared, hoarsely. “Is Lucy in? I should like to see her.”
“Find out if she’s in,” Ben snapped, and turned toward the corrals.
Lucy met Justin at the door. Though she smiled in welcome, he could see that she was troubled.
“Don’t mind what Ben says,” she urged, as she took Justin’s hat and then led the way to the sitting room.
“He was crusty,” said Justin, “but I can’t blame him.”