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They drew nearer, and Agatha set her lips tight as she recognized them, for the light from a vestibule shone into Hawtrey's face as he half lifted Sally on to one of the platforms and sprang up after her. Then the bell tolled again, and the train slid slowly out of the station with its lights flashing upon the snow. Agatha turned away abruptly and walked a little apart from the rest.
Hastings was watching them all with quiet amusement, but she was a little astonished when the girl suggestively moved some wraps from the seat opposite her. "Yes," she said, "I have. If Miss Ismay doesn't mind, I should like to talk to her." Hawtrey's relief was evident, and Agatha glanced at him with a smile that was half-contemptuous.
Wyllard was glad to tell the story: he was anxious to say all he honestly could in Hawtrey's favour. "We were at work on a railroad trestle a towering wooden bridge, in British Columbia. It stretched across a deep ravine with great boulders and a stream in the bottom of it, and we stood high up on a staging close beneath the metals.
If it's not quite neat to-morrow you'll do it again." Sproatly grinned as she went out. A few moments later the girl drove away through the bitter frost. Sally, who returned with her mother, passed a fortnight at Hawtrey's homestead before Watson decided that his patient could be entrusted to Sproatly's care.
Wiley's, and who had played the part of the western hero in "Leila of Hawtrey's." With his burning eyes and sensual face betraying the puffiness that comes from over-indulgence, he was not Janet's ideal of a hero, western or otherwise.
The westerner follows, forces his way through the portals, engages the villain, and vanquishes him. Leila becomes a Bride. We behold her, at the end, mistress of one of those magnificent stone mansions with grilled vestibules and negro butlers into whose sacred precincts we are occasionally, in the movies, somewhat breathlessly ushered a long way from Hawtrey's restaurant and a hall-bedroom.
Quiet as she usually was, the girl was highly strung. Something had gone wrong with Hawtrey's wagon while he was driving in to the railroad, and as the result of it he had missed the Atlantic train. She could not blame him for the accident, but for all that his absence was an unpleasant shock.
In that case Hawtrey, who had sold forward largely, would fall altogether into his hands, and he looked forward with very pleasurable anticipation to enforcing his claim upon the Range. In the meanwhile he was unobtrusively watching Hawtrey's face, and it had become evident that in another moment or two his victim would adopt the course suggested, when there was a rattle of wheels outside.
Popular fancy takes kindly to rough but honest westerners who have begun life in flannel shirts, who have struck gold and come to New York with a fortune but despising effeteness; such a one, tanned by the mountain sun, embarrassed in raiment supplied by a Fifth Avenue tailor, takes a table one evening at Hawtrey's and of course falls desperately in love.
Hastings?" she asked. Hawtrey's lip curled. "No," he said, "if she'll excuse me, I don't think I do. If you tell her you have been successful, she'll probably be quite content." Agatha went out without another word. Hawtrey lighted his pipe and stretched himself out in his chair, when he heard the wagon drive away a few minutes later. He did not like Mrs.
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