"That's all. I don't intend to argue the matter," said Henry, and lifted his paper once more.
Tom hesitated. A dark color rose in his face, and he twisted his hat in his hands. Then he turned on his heel and flung out again without a word.
"Insolent young rascal!" said Henry, still astonished. "Acting as if—close that door, Herbert."
Herbert closed the door, very quietly, like a conspirator.
"What do you make out of that? What about him, anyhow?"
"I don't know anything about him," said Herbert. And nobly added: "He's a good cow-man, according to Jake."
"He has had time enough, apparently, to see a good bit of Kay."
Herbert said nothing. His face was carefully non-committal.
"I don't like it, Herbert. Kay has never seen this sort of life before. God knows it's not romantic, but she may think itis. Just why a fellow who can ride a horse and look after cattle should make an appeal to women, I'm damned if I know."
"He's a handsome devil."
"Handsome is as handsome does," Henry snapped, and picked up his paper again. "Mr. and Mrs. George Pinckney are receiving congratulations today on the birth of a son and heir." Suppose Kay was really interested in this chap? Suppose she fancied herself in love with him? Kay! A man who always smelled of the stable, who earned sixty-five dollars a month and used it to gamble with! A periodic drinker, going on sprees when he disappeared for days at a time, wallowing in who knew what filth? "Lightning struck a hay stack at" Oh, hell!
"What did you mean by saying he's a handsome devil?"
"He is, rather."
"You think she is interested in him, then?"
"I don't see any use in denying it. Yes, I think she is."
"What you really mean is that she's built up some sort of romantic figure out of him. Isn't that it?"
"That's a part of it."
