“Why not?”
“I shouldn’t sleep anyway. This house is haunted by spirits of unrest,” said the girl fretfully. “I think I’ll take a blanket and go out on the desert.”
“And wake up to find a sidewinder crawling over you, and a tarantula nestling in your ear. Don’t think of it.”
“Ban,” called the voice of Camilla Van Arsdale from the inner room, clear and firm as he had ever heard it.
He went in. She stretched out a hand to him. “It’s good to see you, Ban. Have I worried you? I shall be up and about again to-morrow.”
“Now, Miss Camilla,” protested Banneker, “you mustn’t—”
“I’m going to get up to-morrow,” repeated the other immutably. “Don’t be absurd about it. I’m not ill. It was only the sort of knock-down that I must expect from time to time. Within a day or two you’ll see me riding over.... Ban, stand over there in that light.... What’s that you’ve got on?”
“What, Miss Camilla?”
“That necktie. It isn’t in your usual style. Where did you get it?”
“Sent to Angelica City for it. Don’t you like it?” he returned, trying for the nonchalant air, but not too successfully.