Of course he must have heard of Lucas's breakdown, and equally, of
course, he must have seen them both. What happened at that
interview, by what casual attitude he allayed Lucas's probable
jealousy and the girl's own nervousness, Bassett had no way of
discovering. It was clear that he convinced them both of his good
faith, for the next note in the reporter's book was simply a date,
September 12, 1911.

That was the day they had all started West together, traveling in
Clark's private car, with Lucas, twitching slightly, smiling and
waving farewell from a window.

The big smash did not come until the middle of October.

Bassett sat back and considered. He had a fairly clear idea of the
conditions at the ranch; daily riding, some little reading, and a
great deal too much of each other. A sick man, too, unhappy in his
exile, chafing against his restrictions, lonely and irritable. The
girl, early seeing her mistake, and Clark's jealousy of her husband.
The door into their apartment closing, the thousand and one
unconscious intimacies between man and wife, the breakfast for two
going up the stairs, and below that hot-eyed boy, agonized and
passionately jealous, yet meeting them and looking after them, their
host and a gentleman.

Lucas took to drinking, after a time, to allay his sheer boredom.
And Jud Clark drank with him. At the end of three weeks they were
both drinking heavily, and were politely quarrelsome. Bassett
could fill that in also. He could see the girl protesting, watching,
increasingly anxious as she saw that Clark's jealousy was matched