“On the contrary. Everything interested me. You’re a mystery—and I hate mysteries.”
“That’s rather hard.”
“Until they’re solved. Perhaps I shall stay until I solve you.”
“Stay longer. It wouldn’t take any time at all. There’s no mystery to solve.” He spoke with an air of such perfect candor as compelled her belief in his sincerity.
“Perhaps you’ll solve it for me. Here’s Miss Van Arsdale. Good-bye, and thank you. You’ll come and see me? Or shall I come and see you?”
“Both,” smiled Banneker. “That’s fairest.”
The pair rode away leaving the station feeling empty and unsustained. At least Banneker credited it with that feeling. He tried to get back to work, but found his routine dispiriting. He walked out into the desert, musing and aimless.
Silence fell between the two women as they rode. Once Miss Welland stopped to adjust her traveling-bag which had shifted a little in the straps.
“Is riding cross-saddle uncomfortable for you?” asked Miss Van Arsdale.
“Not in the least. I often do it at home.”