Bromfield drew a deep breath. "By Jove, you're a good little sport, Bee. I think I'll get up and give three ringing cheers." "I'd like to see you do that," she mocked. "Of course you know I'm the happiest man in the world," he said with well-ordered composure. "You're not exactly what I'd call a rapturous lover, Clary. But I'm not either for that matter, so I dare say we'll hit it off very well." "I'm a good deal harder hit than I've ever let on, dear girl. And I'm going to make you very happy. That's a promise." Nevertheless he watched her warily behind a manner of graceful eagerness. There had been a suggestion almost of bitterness in her voice. A suspicious little thought was filtering through the back of his mind. "What the deuce has got into the girl? Has she been quarreling with that bounder from Arizona?" "I'm glad of that. I'll try to make you a good wife, even if--" She let the sentence die out unfinished. Beneath her fan their hands met for a moment. "May I tell everybody how happy I am?" "If you like," she agreed. "A short engagement," he ventured. "Yes," she nodded. "And take me away for a while. I'm tired of New York, I think." "I'll take you to a place where the paths are primrose-strewn and where nightingales sing," he promised rashly. She smiled incredulously, a wise old little smile that had no right on her young face. The report of the engagement spread at once. Bromfield took care of that. It ran like wildfire upstairs and down in the Whitford establishment. Naturally Johnnie, who was neither one of the servants nor a member of the family, was the last to hear of it. One day the word was carried to him, and a few hours later he read the confirmation of it on the hand of his young mistress. The Runt had the clairvoyance of love. He knew that Clay was not now happy, though the cattleman gave no visible sign of it except a certain quiet withdrawal into himself. He ate as well as usual. His talk was cheerful. He joked the puncher and made Kitty feel at home by teasing her. In the evenings he shooed out the pair of them to a moving-picture show and once or twice went along. But he had a habit of falling into reflection, his deep-set eyes fixed on some object he could not see. Johnnie worried about him. The evening of the day the Runt heard of the engagement he told his friend about it while Kitty was in the kitchen. "Miss Beatrice she's wearing a new ring," he said by way of breaking the news gently. Clay turned his head slowly and looked at Johnnie. He waited without speaking. "I heerd it to-day from one of the help. Then I seen it on her finger," the little man went on reluctantly. "Bromfield?" asked Clay. "Yep. That's the story." "The ring was on the left hand?" "Yep."