"Will you do that one thing? I shall not try to hold you...."
"Yes," she said stiffly. And then she laughed nervously, saying in a hard, suppressed voice: "What choice have I, after all? The stage has gone and I have to go somewhere and find a stage again or a horse...."
"No. That is not necessary. If you will not come with me freely, I will take you now where you wish; to overtake the stage."
And thus, when already it was hard enough for her, he unwittingly made it harder. She wanted to go ... she did not want to go ... most of all she did not want him to know what she wanted or did not want. She cried out quickly:
"Let us go then! I don't believe you! And, if you dare let me talk alone with Mexicali Joe, I shall know you for what you are!"
Lynette was in Bruce Standing's study. He had gone for Mexicali Joe. She looked about her, seeing on all hands as she had seen during their racing drive, an expression of the man himself. Here was a vital centre of enormous activities; Standing was its very heart. The biggest man she had ever known or dreamed of
[Pg 331]
 knowing; one who did big things; one who was himself untrammelled by the dictates and conventions of others. And in her heart she did believe every word that he spoke; and thus she knew that he, this man among men, loved her!... And she loved him! She knew that; she had known it ... how long? Perhaps with clear definiteness for the first time while she spoke of him with Deveril, yearning for his coming; certainly when she had started at the sight of him at the stage wheel. So she held at last that it was for no selfish mercenary gain that he had been so long coming to her, but rather because he had lost faith in her, thinking ill of her. That was what hurt; that was what held her back from his arms, since she would not admit that he could love her truly and misdoubt her at the same time. For certainly where one loved as she herself could love, one gave all, even unto the last dregs of loyal, confident faith. How confident all day she had been that he would come to her!
Lynette, restless, walked up and down, back and forth through the big rooms, waiting. Her wandering eyes were everywhere ... upon only one of the shining table tops was a scrap of paper. In her abstraction she glanced at it. Her own name! Written as though signed to a note.
In a flash her quickened fancies pictured much of all that had happened: Deveril to-day had told Stan............