his. So he furnished her abundant income and was content to let it go
at that. It pleased her, also, to have it that way.

Harlson thought of the woman, and wondered somewhat. Black-haired,
black-eyed, white-skinned, deep of bust and with a graceful and
powerful swing of movement, she was a woman, physically considered, not
of the common herd. She was a lioness, yet not quite the grand lioness
of the desert. She lacked somewhat of dignity and grandeur of
countenance, and had more of alertness and of craft. She was, though
dark, more like the tawny beast of the Rocky Mountains, the California
lion, as that great cougar is called, supple, full of moods and
passion, and largely cat-like. She had filled his eye casually. Why
had she sent him the tie, the silken thing in green and gold?

He thought and pulled his long limbs together and rose till he was
sitting, and decided that it was but courteous, but his duty as a
gentleman, to wander over to her house and thank her for her
remembrance of him. It was but an expression of good will toward the
family generally, this little act of hers; he knew that, but it was a
personal matter, after all, and he should thank her. It was well to be
thoughtful, to attend to the small amenities, and it took him more than
the usual time to dress. His apparently careless summer garb required
the adjustment of an expert here and there. He was an hour in the
doing of it. When he emerged he was not, taken in a comprehensive way,
bad-looking. He was clear-faced, strong-featured and of stalwart build.

The ordinary man he would not have feared in any meeting; of the woman
he was about to meet he had some apprehension. He knew her quality,
but--she had worked for him a tie! He went up the broad path to the
doorway, between flowers and trees and shrubbery. It was three o'clock