"I'll stand that way again," smiled Polly, "if you'll stop scowling and say nice things to me. It isn't a criminal offense, Marc Scott, for an unmarried man to fall in love with me. Don't feel so badly about it." "It may not be criminal, but it's not square," replied Scott, obstinately. "With you a rich man's daughter, and----" "But not an heiress, remember! That makes a difference," she said, coaxingly. "Perhaps--anyhow, I'm glad you're not rich," said Scott, soberly. "I think I'd fight with a rich wife." "My dear Marc, you and I would fight, no matter who had the money. We're the scrappy kind. But, on the other hand, we'll always make up again, and that's what counts. That's what Joyce Henderson and I couldn't do. We went for months and months without a quarrel, but when we once had one we couldn't get over it." "You're sure you've forgotten about that chap?" "Quite. He doesn't exist." Again they were silent, the sun picking out radiant bits of Polly's hair to light upon as she stood leaning against Scott's arm, his rough coat rubbing her soft skin. "It's a nice old world," she said, drawing a long breath. "It's good enough for me," he answered as he leaned over and kissed her. "Do you know, I've been wondering for a week whether it was me or Mrs. Van Zandt that you were in love with?" said Polly, with one of her sudden smiles. "Me? Care for----" Scott's voice died away in surprise. "You behaved as though you did. You are always so gentle and pleasant with her." "I'm gentle and pleasant with everybody," declared Scott, stoutly. "I have that kind of disposition." "I think you'd better go and get the horses," suggested Polly. "I'd rather not begin disagreeing with you just yet." Scott, chuckling, went back after the horses. Polly, left alone, sat down on a stone and gave a little sigh of contentment. "To think," she said, incredulously, "that once I thought I was in love with Joyce Henderson!" "Polly!" Scott's voice was sharp. He came around the turn on a trot. "Those cussed horses have cleared out and left us high and dry. I've got to go after them." "But--I thought horses always went home when they ran off!" "I think they've gone down into the canyon--there may be water down there. Will you sit here while I go after them?" "I suppose so," forlornly. "You won't stay long?" "Be back in half an hour." Scott disappeared down the trail. Polly watched him a moment or two and then returned to her resting place. Something of the happiness was gone from her eyes. The accident was ill-timed. It brought a feeling of foreboding most disagreeable in its contrast with her former exaltation. She jumped to her feet determined to do something to take her mind off the ugly thought.