upon her, her eyes half wistful and altogether serious, "to be lost out
here. Just to get far, far away from people and ever so close to the big
old mountains. Wouldn't it?" And a few minutes later she drew in her
horse and cried out softly: "Listen!" She herself was listening
breathlessly. "It sounds like the ocean ever so far off. Or--or like
shouting voices a million miles away. Or like the mountains themselves
whispering. It is hard to believe, isn't it? that it is just the wind in
the pines."

Another time, while, under the pretext of letting their horses blow,
King had suggested a short halt to give the girl a chance to rest, she
said with abruptness:

"What do you think of Mr. Gratton?"

Already she knew Mark King well enough to realize that he would either
refuse to answer or would speak his mind without beating about the bush.

"I don't like him," said King.

Gloria looked thoughtful.

"Neither do I," she said. "Not up here in the mountains. And down in San
Francisco I thought him rather splendid. What is more, if we were
whisked back to San Francisco this minute, I'd probably think him fine
again."

She appeared interested in the consideration, and when they rode on was
silent, obviously turning the matter over and over in mind.