The girl’s eyes steadied themselves on Jim’s face. He had drawn himself up a chair, and was sitting opposite her. Peter was still standing, his great bulk shutting the glare of the lamplight out of her eyes. She looked long and earnestly into the man’s face, as though she would fathom the meaning of his visit before she in any way committed herself. But she learned nothing from it.
“A party call––after all this time, Jim?” she asked, with something like a wistful smile.
Jim turned away. He could not face the pathos in her expression. His eyes wandered round the little room. Not one detail of it was forgotten, yet it seemed ages and ages since he had seen it all. He nodded.
“You see,” he said lamely, “new married folks don’t–––”
Eve checked his explanation quickly. She didn’t want any. All she wanted was for them to go before Will returned.
“Yes; I know. And, besides, the ranch is a long way. Yet––why did you come to-night?” She pressed her hand to her forehead lest the fear in her eyes should betray her.
The pause which followed was awkward. Somehow neither of the men was prepared for it. Neither had thought that such a question would be put to him. Peter looked at Jim, who turned deliberately away. He was struggling vainly for a way of approaching all he had to say to this girl, and now that he was face to face with it he realized the impossibility of his position. Finally it was the girl herself who helped him out.
“It’s very, very kind of you, anyway,” she said, in a 167 low voice. “It’s good to think that I’ve got friends thinking about me–––”
“That’s just it, Eve,” cried Jim, seizing his opportunity with a clumsy rush. “I’ve been thinking a heap––lately. You see––Will Henderson’s not working and––and––folks say–––”