"That remains to be seen. It's a man's job to run this place under favorable conditions. Your uncle, Colonel Hunter, sort of got shiftless in the last years. He let things slide. I don't know about debts and such, but I suspect there are some. There are other things, though. You've got some envious neighbors ... and some that ain't particular how they make their money,"--with just a shade of emphasis on the last. "You mean that they steal?" "Plenty, ma'am." "But how? Who?" "I don't know, but it seems to be gettin' quite the custom here to get rich off the HC ... especially since the place changed owners." "Why at that particular time?" "Since it got noised about that a woman was goin' to own it there's been a lively interest in crime. I told you that your uncle was a man who was respected a lot. Some feared him, too." "And they won't respect me because I'm a woman?" "That's about it. It's believed, ma'am, that a woman, 'specially an Eastern woman, can't make a go of it out here, so what's the use of givin' her a fair show?" He waited for her to speak again but she did not and he added with that experimental manner: "So, maybe, if you want to make money, it'd be well to find a buyer. Maybe if you was to take an interest in this ranch and did want to be ... to stay in this country, you couldn't make it go." "Do you think that's impossible?" He waited a moment before saying: "I don't know. You don't make a very good start, ma'am." "At least you are deliciously frank!" "It pays; it does away with misunderstandings. I wouldn't want you to think--since you've asked me--that I believed you could make a go of this ranch, even if you wanted to." That stung her sharply; she drew her breath in with a slight sound and leaned quickly forward as if ready to denounce his skepticism, but she did not speak. She only arose impatiently and walked to the mantel. "Do you smoke?" she asked, holding out a box of cigarettes. "Yes; do you?" "Yes." In the word was a clear defiance. She struck a match and held it towards him; then lighted her own cigarette. Seated again, she stared into the fire, smoking slowly, but as his eyes remained fast on her the color crept upward into her cheeks, higher and brighter until she turned to meet the gaze that was on her and with a bite to the words asked: "You don't approve of this, either?" "Why, ma'am, I like to smoke." "But you stare at me as though I were committing a crime." "You see, you're the first good white woman I've ever seen smoke." "You--" She checked the question, looked at him and then eyed her cigarette critically. "I don't suppose women out here do smoke, do they?" "No, ma'am; not much." "And you men? You men who drink and smoke don't want the women to enjoy the same privilege?" "That appears about it."