Whenever she spoke, I saw Jim's large, slightly
prominent eyes fix themselves upon her face. His beaming satisfaction
in everything she did or said would have been delightful had I been
able to wean my thoughts from the place which he still believed to be
--Eden. At intervals I heard him murmur, "This is rippin'!"
After luncheon, Angela asked to see the ranch-house, and almost as
soon as we were out of hearing, she said with disconcerting
abruptness--
"Does your ranch pay?" She added half-apologetically, "I do so want to
know."
"It doesn't pay," I answered grimly.
"You are not going--behind?" she faltered, using the familiar phrase
of the country in which she had spent as yet but three weeks.
"We are going behind," I answered, angry with her curiosity: not old
enough or experienced enough to see beneath it fear and misery. Angela
said nothing more till we passed into the house. Then, with lack-
lustre eyes, she surveyed our belongings, murmuring endless
commonplace phrases. Presently she stopped opposite a photograph of a
girl in Court dress.
"What a lovely frock!" she exclaimed, with real interest.
Pages:
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277