"Yes, you can,"--divining what was in her mind and interrupting. "I'll be glad to have you meet him here, ma'am. 'Twould offend me if you went away, but I think, considerin' everythin', how you've been apart so long an' all, it'd be better for me to leave you two alone. I've got business in town anyhow," he lied. "I'd have to go in either to-night or in th' mornin'. It's th' best way all round." He did not look at her during this, could not trust himself to. He felt that to meet her gaze would mean that he would be tempted again to declare his love for her, his hatred for her husband, because this hour was another turning point for them all. For the safety of Ned Lytton to hold himself in accord with his own sense of right, it was wise for him to be away at the meeting of husband and wife; not fear for himself but of himself drove him from his hearth. He knew that Ann's eyes were on him, steady and inquiring, felt somehow that she had suddenly become mistress of the situation. Heretofore, he had dominated all their interviews. But now that eminence was gone. He was retreating from this woman and not wholly in good order, for he could not remain with her nor could he trust himself to give a true explanation of his departure. To delay longer, to just stand there and discuss the very embarrassing situation, would be no relief, might only lead to greater discomfiture, he knew, so he said: "All th' things to cook with are in that cupboard, ma'am,"--turning away from her to indicate. "All th' pots an' pans an' dishes are below there, on those shelves. He ... your husband knows, anyhow. He can show you round. "In here.... This is his room." He paused when halfway across the floor, turned and looked at her. In her eye he caught a troubled quality. "He's been sleepin' here," he repeated, walking on and opening the door. The woman followed and looked over his shoulder. "But I've another room; my room, in here,"--moving to another door. "This is mine, an' as I won't be here you can use it as you ... as you want to." Nothing in his tone or manner of speech suggested anything but the idea contained in his words, but Ann's eyes rested on his profile with a sudden gratitude, a warmth. Surprise came to her a moment later and she exclaimed, "Oh, how fine!" He had thrown the door back and stood aside for her to enter. Light came into the room from three windows and before the gentle breeze white curtains billowed inward. Navajo blankets covered the floor. The bed, in one corner, was spread with a gay serape and beside it was a bookcase with shelves well filled. In the center of the room stood a table and on it a reading lamp. About the walls were pictures, few in number but interesting. At Ann's exclamation Bruce smiled broadly, pleased. "I'm glad you like it," he said. "I do. I thought maybe you would." "Why, it's splendid!" she cried again. "It doesn't look like a room in the house of a bachelor rancher. It doesn't look like...."