"Will you _ever_ forget," she murmured, "the camps by the summer streams, the log towns, the lights, the smoke, the freedom--the comradeship--" "Homesick for the old rough days?" he teased. "Kind of," she confessed. "But it wasn't 'respectable'--a--well, a _fairly_ good-looking woman in a miner's saloon." He flared again. "Do you mean to tell me they dare say--" "They dare say anything--behind our backs," she said, with cool contempt. "It's all drivelling nonsense. I care nothing about it. But you asked me. Don't bother your head about it. Have you anything to suggest doing this morning, instead of Yet Lee's?" She turned away from him toward the door leading into another room. "I'll get my hat," she said over her shoulder. "Look here, Patsy," said Sherwood, rather grimly, "if you want to get in with that lot, you shall." She stopped at this, and turned square around. "If I do--when I do--I will," she replied. "But, John Sherwood, you mustn't interfere--never in the world! Promise!" She stood there, almost menacing in her insistence, evidently resolved to nip this particularly masculine resolution in the bud. "Egad, Patsy," cried Sherwood, "you are certainly a raving beauty!" He covered the ground between them in two strides, and crushed her in his arms. She threw her head back for his kiss. A knock sounded, and almost immediately a very black, very bullet-headed young negro thrust his head in at the door. "Sam," said Sherwood deliberately, "some day I'm going to kill you!" "Yes, sah! yes, sah!" agreed Sam heartily. "Well, what the devil do you want?" "Th' _Panama_ done been, signalled; yes, sah!" said the negro, but without following his head through the door. "Well, what the devil do you suppose I care, you black limb?" roared Sherwood, "and what do you mean coming in here before you're told?" "Yes, sah! yes, sah, dat's right," ducked Sam, "Shell I awdah the team, sah?" "I suppose we might as well go see her docked. Would you like it?" he asked his wife. "I'd love it." "Then get the team. And some day I'm going to kill you." III Mrs. Sherwood prepared herself first of all by powdering her nose. This simple operation, could it have been seen by the "respectable" members of the community, would in itself have branded her as "fast," In those days cosmetics of any sort were by most considered inventions of the devil. It took extraordinary firmness of character even to protect one's self against sunburn by anything more artificial than the shadow of a hat or a parasol. Then she assumed a fascinating little round hat that fitted well down over her small head. This, innocent of pins, was held on by an elastic at the back. A ribbon, hanging down directly in front, could be utilized to steady it in a breeze. "All ready," she announced, picking up a tiny parasol, about big enough for a modern doll. "You may carry my mantle."