Except for a fatigued look as he rested one hand on the portiere and the other on his hip, he appeared quite as she had last seen him. "Are you calling me?" he asked. "Yes," she responded tartly. "Why didn't you answer?" "I didn't know who you were speaking to at first. I've been here all the evening. I didn't know you were in town till I saw your hat on the table a few minutes ago." "Where is Belle?" asked Kate, still on edge. "She went over to Mrs. Kitchen's." "When will she be back?" He seemed to take no offense at her peremptory tone. "She said she wouldn't be gone a great while. But," he added, with his customary deliberation, "all the same, I wouldn't be surprised if she stayed over pretty late--or even all night." This was not just what Kate wanted to hear. "Why didn't you say something when I first came in?" she asked, her suspicion reflected in her voice. He did not seem nonplused but he answered slowly: "I heard someone come in. I didn't pay much attention, that's about the truth." "What are you doing in there in the dark?" He was provokingly deliberate in answering. "You probably haven't heard about Abe Hawk?" Her manner changed instantly and her voice sank. "Is it true that he is dead?" "Yes." "He didn't drown that morning, did he?" she asked eagerly anxious. "You thought he could get out--what happened?" "He got out of the creek. But he strained his wounds--they opened. I wasn't much of a surgeon. I got him to the hospital--he died there. I had no place to take him then. I wouldn't leave him there alone. Belle said I might bring him here. I'm spending my last night with him." "You're not trying to spare me, are you?" she asked, unsteadily. "He really did get out of the creek?" "He did get out." She spoke again brokenly: "He saved my life." "Well," remarked Laramie, meditating, "he wouldn't ask anything much for that. Do you mind if I smoke?" "Not a bit." "I'm kind of nervous tonight," he confessed simply. Then he crossed the room, rested his elbow on the mantelpiece and made ready a cigarette. "I wonder," he said, "if I could ask you a question?" "What is it?" "You always act kind of queer with me. Why is it? You've never been the way you were the first day we met. Haven't I always been square with you?" She hesitated but she answered honestly: "You always have." "Then why are you so different?" "I've made that confession once. I was acting a part that day." "No, I can't figure it in that way. That day you were acting natural. Why can't you be like that again." "But, Mr. Laramie----" "No--Jim." "But----" "Every time you call me Mr. Laramie I'm looking around for a gentleman. Why can't you be the way you were the first time?"