rast to the majority of Texas
country homes. "Young Ed" had built almost a mansion for his bride, and
in the latter years Alaire had remodeled and changed it to suit her own
ideas. The verandas were wide, the rooms large and cool and open;
polished floors, brilliant grass mats, and easy wicker furniture gave
it a further airiness. The place was comfortable, luxurious; yet it was
a home and it had an atmosphere.

Not for many years had Dave Law been a guest amid such surroundings,
and as the moments dragged on he began to feel more and more out of
place. With growing discomfort he realized that the mistress of this
residence was the richest woman in all this part of Texas, and that he
was little better than a tramp. His free life, his lack of care and
responsibility, had bred in him a certain contempt for money;
nevertheless, when through the door to the dining-room he saw Alaire
pause to give a final touch to the table, he was tempted to beat an
ignominious retreat, for she was a radiant vision in evening dress. She
was stately, beautiful; her hair was worn high, her arms were bare
underneath a shimmer of lace, her gown exposed a throat round and
smooth and adorable. In reality, she was simply clad; but to the
Ranger's untrained eye she seemed regal, and his own rough clothes
became painfully conspicuous by contrast.

Alaire knew how to be a gracious and winning hostess; of course she did
not appear to notice her guest's embarrassment. She had rather welcomed
the thought that this man cared for her, and yet, had she deliberately
planned to dampen his feeling, she could hardly have succeeded better
than by showing him the wide disparity in their lives and situations.
Dave was dismayed; he felt very poor and ridiculous. Alaire was no
longer the woman he had ridden with through the solitudes; her very
friendliness seemed to be a condescension.

He did not linger long after they had dined, for he wished to be alone,
where he could reach an understanding with himself. On the steps he
waited just a moment for Alaire to mention, if she chose, that subject
which they had still left open on the night before. Reading his
thought, she said:

"You are expecting me to say something about Panfilo Sanchez."

"Yes."

"I have thought it over; in fact, I have been thinking about it all
day; but even yet I don't know what to tell you. One moment I think the
truth would merely provoke another act of violence; the next I feel
that i