His eyes--were they keener, more
flashing than before?--met hers with clear, frank, warm regard,
in which perplexity was not, nor discontent, nor pain.
"Look at me long as you like," he said, with a laugh. "I'm not
much to look at. And, Jane, neither you nor Lassiter, can brag.
You're paler than I ever saw you. Lassiter, here, he wears a
bloody bandage under his hat. That reminds me. Some one took a
flying shot at me down in the sage. It made Wrangle run
some....Well, perhaps you've more to tell me than I've got to
tell you."
Briefly, in few words, Jane outlined the circumstances of her
undoing in the weeks of his absence.
Under his beard and bronze she saw his face whiten in terrible
wrath.
"Lassiter--what held you back?"
No time in the long period of fiery moments and sudden shocks had
Jane Withersteen ever beheld Lassiter as calm and serene and cool
as then.
"Jane had gloom enough without my addin' to it by shootin' up the
village," he said.
As strange as Lassiter's coolness was Venters's curious, intent
scrutiny of them both, and under it Jane felt a flaming tide wave
from bosom to temples.
"Well--you're right," he said, with slow pause. "It surprises me
a little, that's all."
Jane sensed then a slight alteration in Venters, and what it was,
in her own confusion, she could not tell. It had always been her
intention to acquaint him with the deceit she had fallen to in
her zeal to move Lassiter.
Pages:
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268