“It is paid, I tell you,” she repeated.
Suddenly he drew back from the outstretched white hand that seemed to fascinate him.
“I’d kill a man to touch your hand. But I won’t touch it on the terms you offer.”
His unexpected passion disconcerted her.
“Stewart, no man ever before refused to shake hands with me, for any reason. It—it is scarcely flattering,” she said, with a little laugh. “Why won’t you? Because you think I offer it as mistress to servant—rancher to cowboy?”
“No.”
“Then why? The debt you owed me is paid. I cancel it. So why not shake hands upon it, as men do?”
“I won’t. That’s all.”
“I fear you are ungracious, whatever your reason,” she replied. “Still, I may offer it again some day. Good night.”
He said good night and turned. Madeline wonderingly watched him go down the path with his hand on the black horse’s neck.