great show of gallantry. He seemed curiously gay and elated, she thought.
Nan looked in annoyance at a wine-glass set conspicuously before her plate. Was it not possible for him to see that her position was sufficiently uncomfortable without that? She turned her glass with a little more vigor than necessary. That sparkle Spiser liked leaped into her eyes.
"What—no wine?"
Nan replied coldly:
"No wine."
The cook glanced at her oddly as he placed platters upon the table.
"I'm sure you'll change your mind," Spiser replied, unruffled. "I always keep a little out here on the ranch for celebrations," he added. "Clarence, fill Miss Galbraith's glass."
This time Nan's eyes flashed unmistakably.
"Positively not," and she lifted her small hand in a decided negative.
Spiser shrugged his shoulders.
"Suit yourself. That'll be all, Clarence, we won't want anything more to-night."
"But your sister," Nan looked at him
