Larry had no intention of being her friend. It was not in his horoscope to be merely a friend to any charming woman. Moreover, he was as much in love with Ruth as he could be with anybody except himself.
Just before they reached the porch she asked him a question: “When will they be through with the round-up?”
“In two or three days. Why?”
“I just wondered.”
Her eyes evaded his. His annoyance flashed suddenly into words.
“If it’s Rowan you want, why don’t you go back to him like a good little girl and say you’re sorry? I expect he would forgive you.”
Anger, sudden and imperious, leaped into her eyes. “I wish you’d learn, Larry Silcott, to mind your own business.”
She turned and fled into the house.