“I’m not. Mrs. Archer agrees with me. She says you couldn’t be a—a thief if you tried. And down in her heart even Mary— But whatever has happened to your face?”
Stratton flushed faintly. “Oh, I just—cut myself against something,” he shrugged. “It’s nothing serious.”
“I’m glad of that,” she commented, dimpling a little. “It certainly doesn’t add to your beauty.”
She was bare-headed, and the slanting sunlight, caressing the crisp waves of hair, revealed an unsuspected reddish glint amongst the dark tresses. As he looked down into her clear, friendly eyes, Buck realized, and not the first time, how very attractive she really was. If things had only been different, if only the barrier of that hateful mental lapse of his had not existed, he had a feeling that they might have been very good friends indeed.
His lips had parted for a farewell word or two when suddenly he caught the flutter of skirts over by the 180 corner of the ranch-house. It was Mary Thorne, and Buck wondered with an odd, unexpected little thrill, whether by any chance she too might be coming to say good-by. Whatever may have been her intention, however, it changed abruptly. Catching sight of the group beside the corral fence, she stopped short, hesitated an instant, and then, turning square about, disappeared in the direction she had come. As he glanced back to Stella Manning, Buck’s face was a little clouded.
“We’ll have to be getting started, I reckon,” he said briefly. “Thank you very much for—for seeing me off.”
“But where are you going?”
“Paloma for to-night; after that I’ll be hunting another job.”
The girl put out her hand and Stratton took it, hoping that she wouldn’t notice his raw, bruised knuckles. He might have spared himself the momentary anxiety. She wasn’t looking at his fingers.
“Well, it’s good-by, then,” she said, a note of regret underlying the surface brightness of her tone. “But when you’re settled you must send me a line. We were such good pals aboard ship, and I haven’t enough friends to want to lose even one of them. Send a letter here to the ranch, and if we’re gone, Mary will forward it.” 181