Part 19 (2/2)
”I rode a horse, and I came because I couldn't stay away from you any longer.”
She looked at him, head tilted a bit to one side, and genuine regret was in her slow smile.
”Oh, d.i.c.k, don't look or feel like that! I'm glad to see you, but I _wish_ you'd stop thinking and talking and looking like that. I don't like to have you so dreadfully determined ... when it's no use.
”All this way to see me! And did you eat? Of course you didn't!”
”I don't want anything,” he protested glumly.
”But you must.”
She seized on his need as welcome distraction from the love making, which undoubtedly was his purpose. She took his coat and hat, placed cigarettes for him and went to the kitchen to help Carlotta prepare a quick meal. She served it herself, going to pains to make it attractive, and finally seated herself across the table from Hilton, who made a pretense of eating.
She talked, a bit feverishly, perhaps, but compelled him to stick to matters far from personal and after he had finished his scant meal and lighted a cigarette he leaned back in his chair and smiled easily at her. It was a good smile, open and frank and gentle, but when it died that nasty light came back; as though the smile showed the man Jane Hunter had tolerated for long, masking the man she now tried to put from her.
”If your enthusiasm were for anything else, I'd like it,” he said.
”But it isn't. Why can't you like it as it is?”
He ignored the question.
”Busy, Jane?”
”As the devil on Forty-Second street.”
”And still think it's worth while?”
”The only worth-while thing I've ever done; more worth while every day.
So much worth while that I'm made over from the heart out and I've been here less than a month!”
”After taking a bottle of your bitters I am now able to support my husband and children,” he quoted ironically.
”Laugh if you must,”--with a lift of her shoulders. ”I mean it.”
”You get along with the men, Jane?”
”Very well so far. They're fine, real, honest men. I like them all.
There are some things I don't quite understand yet,” examining a finger nail closely. ”I haven't made up my mind that my foreman can be trusted or that he's as honest as he seems to be.”
”The fellow who was with you yesterday?”
”No; Dad Hepburn. An older man. He.... He seems to evade me some times.”
Hilton watched her closely. She was one of the few women he knew who had been able to judge men; he made a mental note of the name she had mentioned.
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