continually ashamed, bit like acid into his heart as he thought of
Seagreave's fair youthfulness; the charm of his long, clear, blue eyes;
the winning sweetness of his nature.

Pearl drew her brows together a little, her eyes gloomed through her
long, silky, black lashes. "I don't like queer people," she said
petulantly. "He always seems to be mooning about something, and most of
the time he acts like you weren't on the earth." An expression of
surprise and resentment grew upon her face and darkened it. Then, with a
gesture of annoyance, she threw up her head, dismissing the subject from
her mind. A vision of Hanson rose before her and her heart turned to the
memory of his ruddy good looks, his gay, bold eyes, his magnetic
vitality.

"Say, Bob," she began, a little hesitatingly, "does that Mrs. Hanson
still live around here?"

He nodded. "I got a letter from her the other day. She wanted me to
attend to a little mining business down in the desert. She's pretty
shrewd in business, too."

"Why couldn't she attend to her own business?" asked Pearl sharply.
"What's she bothering you, a stranger, for?"

"Because her father died not long ago and she inherited some property
and she's got to go East to see about it. I shouldn't wonder if she's
already started."

She repressed a sudden start and looked quickly at him, but he was
gazing out over the ranges and did not see her, which, she reflected,