Kent pulled in his chair and settled back.
“Well, little Marshy’s all het up!” one of the girls prompted. “Who’s your friend?”
He was still beaming.
“Fellow I haven’t seen since college—Alec McConnell. I was chucked. He went through to the finish. Mining engineer—big man in Idaho to-day.”
“And the other two?” queried Naomi casually.
“The one staring at you, my dear, is the son of Bill Dixon of Dixonville, Oregon, big ranch owner, king of the apple country.”
“And the girl?”
“Little friend of his being chaperoned by McConnell and his wife. First visit to the big town. Is that all?”
Once more Naomi’s lazy gaze met the one which had not moved from her and a faint flush surged under her thick pallor. As the lids fell, they covered something of the look of the gamester. It was a calculating look that weighed possibilities, one she was quick to hide.
Kent detected it rather by instinct than otherwise.