He stirred uneasily. Evidently, Patagonia shared certain characteristics with Colorado. Those absurdly shrewd eyes of hers missed nothing.
“Have I stuck another quill into you?” she went on. “If so, it was an involuntary effort.”
“As it happens, I do live—I mean, I have lived—on a ranch. I own one; but it contains a gold mine. So, you see, your divination is almost uncanny.”
“I am still guessing why you are coming to South America. Don’t tell me if you prefer to make a mystery of your intentions.”
“Will you be vexed if I avail myself of your offer, and remain silent?”
“Vexed? I shall be delighted. It is a positive joy to meet a man who had rather appear uncivil than coin a polite fib. The most truthful of men lie glibly to girls. They think it is good for us. Now, I regard you as a person who hates deceit in either man or woman.”
He turned and stared at her fixedly. “May I ask how old you are?” he said abruptly.
“Nineteen.”
“You talk like a woman of forty, and a wise one at that.”
“I was grown-up at seven. At twelve I got that crack on the head I told you of last night, when our homestead was attacked and burnt by drunken Indians——”