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Let him do as he likes with it but let him be himself. I'd rather have him come back to us even after he's lost the money his old self and empty-handed than try to change the stuff God put into him and make him more like others." The tone and manner were so different from Demorest's usual levity that Stacy was silent. After a pause he said: "Well! we shall miss him on the hillside won't we?"
You see she got up an awful lot of side when I told her I didn't reckon to run a smelting furnace in a wooden hotel with the thermometer at one hundred in the office, and I reckon it was just an excuse for getting off in a hurry." But the continued delay in Stacy's promised telegram had begun to work upon Demorest's usual equanimity, and he scarcely listened in his anxiety for his old partner.
Did Demorest think if there had been any of his friends there they would have stood by like "dogsh" and seen him insulted? Demorest turned away and re-entered the cabin as Dick lurched heavily forward, still muttering, down the trail. The excitement over, a sickening repugnance to the whole incident took the place of Demorest's resentment and indignation.
Notwithstanding his garrulity, Pope was noticeably ill at ease. He was conscious of Miss Demorest's hostile eyes, and the pointed manner in which she ignored his presence was disquieting. He had the feeling that she was carefully measuring him and preparing herself to take revenge in some characteristic feminine manner.
Pope did his best to repair the wreckage in some degree, and, having quieted the sufferer, he set out for Miss Demorest's home. Adoree, clad in a slightly soiled negligee, answered his ring, then, recognizing him, blocked the door hastily, exposing a face overcast with defiance and contempt. "Aha!" she exclaimed. "Aha!" and Pope's sensitive ego recoiled before the fierce challenge of her tone.
The mention of his wife recalled him to himself, oddly enough, when Demorest's name had failed. But very differently. Out of his whirling consciousness came the instinctive feeling that he could not see her now. He turned, crossed the room, sat down on the sofa beside Mrs.
"I thought so. And it's like Edward to bring you and sneak off in that fashion." Mrs. Blandford gave a quick sigh of relief. Demorest's flight had been mistaken for her husband's habitual evasion.
As her only danger lay in Demorest's presence, the absence of her husband caused her more undefinable uneasiness than actual alarm. The room had become cold with the dying out of the dining-room fire that warmed the drum. She would go to bed.
No, she ess always esso." She stopped, looked unutterable things at Joan, pressed her fan below a spray of roses on her full bodice as if to indicate some thrilling memory beneath it, shook her head again, suddenly caught sight of Demorest's serious face, said: "Ah, that brigand of our husband laughs himself at me," and then herself broke into a charming ripple of laughter.
As the stage rattled away again with more or less humorous and open disparagement of the town and the Posada from its "outsiders," he lounged with lazy but systematic deliberation towards Mateo Morez, the proprietor. "I guess that some of your folks here couldn't direct me to Dick Demorest's house, could ye?" The Senor Mateo Morez was at once perplexed and pained.
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