"I don't feel right, driving you out like this," Ann protested, at length. "But don't you understand? Nobody's ever been in here, but Tim, who's dead, an' you. You're th' first person I've ever asked to stay in here. I'd like it ... to think you'd been in here ... stayin'.... It's you who 're doin' th' favor...." He ended in a lowered tone and was so intent, so keen in his desire that Ann looked on him with a queer little feeling of misgiving. Every now and then she had encountered those phases of him for which she could not account, which made her doubt and, for the instant, fear him. But, after she had searched his face and found there nothing but the sincere concern for her welfare, she knew that his motive was of the highest, that he thought only of her, and she answered, "Why, I'll be glad to stay here, in your room." He turned and walked into the kitchen, swinging one hand. "I'll be driftin'," he said, when she followed, forcing himself to a brusque manner which disarmed her. "You ask Ned to water th' horses. I'm ridin' th' pinto to town. I'll be back to-morrow sometime." He put on his hat and started for the door resolutely. Then halted. "If anything should happen," he began, attempting a casual tone. But he could not remain casual, nor could he finish his sentence. He stammered and flushed and his gaze dropped. "Nothin' will ... to you," he finished. With that he was gone, leading her borrowed horse back to town at her request. From a point half a mile distant he looked back. She was still in the doorway and when he halted his pony he saw a flicker of white as she waved a handkerchief at him. He lifted his hat in salute; then rode on, with a heart that was heavy and cold. "Th' finest woman that God ever gave a body," he said, "an' I've given her over to th' only man that walks th' earth who wouldn't try to appreciate her!" CHAPTER XV HER LORD AND MASTER Ann watched him go, an apprehensive mood coming upon her. He shacked off on the pinto horse while Abe, left alone in the corral, trotted about and nickered and pawed to show his displeasure at being left behind. For a long time the girl stood there, not moving, breathing slowly; then she looked about her, turned and walked into Bruce's room, roamed around, examining the books, the pictures, the furniture, touching things with her finger tips gently, lovingly, hearing his voice again as it told her of them. For her each article in that room now held a particular interest. She stared at the photograph of the girl he had selected as a sister, at Whistler's fine, capped old lady, opened the "French Revolution" and riffled the leaves he had thumbed and soiled and torn, and laughed deep in her throat as she saw the curtains hanging irregularly from their six-penny nails ... laughed, though her eyes were damp. A step sounded in the kitchen and the woman became rigid as she listened. "... hotter ..."