"I believe these things," affirmed Muriel. "Wasn't that true about the time you rescued the man from the lynchers at Grand Junction?"
"Grand Joining. I didn't read it," said Stainton.
"But did you do it?"
"Oh, there was something of the sort." He honestly disliked to have his supposedly heroic exploits praised, only from modesty perhaps, perhaps from a super-sensitive consciousness that they were the results rather of fear than of bravery. "Look at that sky. Isn't it glorious?"
"Then about the express robbery on the Rio Grande," said Muriel; "they said you went after the robbers when the sheriff and his men were afraid to go, and you captured them by yourself—three of them."
Stainton laughed, his broad, white teeth showing.
"The sheriff and his men," he said, "were along with me. It was not half so exciting as that play last night. Didn't you like the play?"
"I loved it. But, Mr. Stainton——"
"Yes?"
"Won't you tell me about some of these things?"