his rolling walk, looking almost like a gentleman in white duck clothes and a Panama hat.
"How d'do?" he said with curt affability and sat down on the bench beside her.
His assurance angered Nan immeasurably.
Señor Spiser craned his neck and inquired humorously:
"The old catamount is away?"
Nan looked at him in cold silence.
"Haven't you anything to say to me after a sixty-mile drive and half killin' my horses to get here?" He looked at her with desire in his eyes. Nan arose.
"Haven't I made it quite clear to you that I have nothing to say to you, now or at any time?"
"Look here"—he ignored the rebuff and reached for her hand instead.
"What did you jump the traces for? You're an obstinate little devil, but, by George! you suit me down to the ground."
Nan was nearly choked with rage as she wrenched herself free.
"Isn't it possible to make you understand that you have misjudged me? Can't you see
