"
The ponies dropped down again into the bed of the wash, and
plowed across through the heavy sand. After they had reached the
solid road, Collins resumed conversation at a new point.
"It's a month and a day since I first met you Miss Mackenzie," he
said, apparently apropos of nothing.
She felt her blood begin to choke. "Indeed!"
"I gave you a letter to read when I was on the train."
"A letter!" she exclaimed, in well-affected surprise.
"Did you think it was a book of poems? No, ma'am, it was a
letter. You were to read it in a month. Time was up last night. I
reckon you read it."
"Could I read a letter I left at Tucson, when it was a hundred
miles away?" she smiled with sweet patronage.
"Not if you left it at Tucson," he assented, with an answering
smile.
"Maybe I DID lose it." She frowned, trying to remember.
"Then I'll have to tell you what was in it."
"Any time will do. I dare say it wasn't important."
"Then we'll say THIS time."
"Don't be stupid, Mr. Collins. I want to talk about our desert
Villon."
"I said in that letter--"
She put her pony to a canter, and they galloped side by side in
silence for half a mile.
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