But Jeff had not waited. He was out on the veranda to greet his wife as she came. And just for one instant Nan caught a glimpse of the light in his eyes which the sight of Elvine had conjured. All the coldness she had witnessed that morning, all the merciless purpose, even the simple friendliness he had displayed toward her. These were gone. Their place had been taken by a light of passionate regard for the woman who had yielded herself to him. For a moment it seemed as if her own emotions must stifle her. But the next she was within the room again, her eyes merrily dancing, talking to the parent she adored. "Say, you Daddy of mine," she said, almost boisterously, "haven't you work to be done, the same as I have? Shame on you for dallying. Shame on us both. Come right along, sir. Come right along at once." Then, as he moved toward the window, "No, no, you dear blundering Daddy, not that way! That's reserved. The back door for us, sure. Come along." And the great Bud permitted himself to be hustled from the room through the kitchen way. Nan's effort was only partially successful. In a few moments the fugitives were urgently recalled to hear the news of the disaster at Spruce Crossing, which Elvine had brought with her. And during the discussion which followed Nan was forced to stand by while the handsome woman who had supplanted her occupied the centre of attention. Somehow the news which held the others, drawing forth hot condemnation from Bud, and the bitter comment of Jeff, for once left Nan cold. Somehow it seemed so small a thing compared with that other disaster which was always with her. Her whole attention was held by Jeff and his wife. Not a detail of expression or emotion, as the swift words flowed between them, was lost upon her. And the exquisite pain of it all was excruciating. The great love of the man was so apparent. There was a moment, even, just as Jeff and Elvine were about to take their departure, when Nan could have almost cried out. It had followed upon an expression of Elvine's dislike and fear of the man who conveyed the news to her. Jeff took up her complaint in no half-hearted fashion, and, somehow, the injustice of his attitude and his obvious thought for his wife alone brought the girl's hot resentment very near the surface. "Yes," he said. "He's a tough, sure. I've kept him on because he's one of the brightest cow-hands east of the mountains. But you're right, Evie. And I can't stand for you being scared by the 'hands' on my ranch. I'll have to get rid of him." Then, as he sat in the saddle with Elvine on her pony at his side, he had taken in Nan and her father in a smiling, comprehensive glance. "I guess Evie's some sport acting the way she's done," he declared with a lover's pride. "I allow we owe her a heap of thanks, eh, Bud?" Bud nodded.