stened them with
her tongue. A fever seemed to be upon her, and mouth and throat were
parched.

Suddenly the sound for which she waited came. She darted eagerly to
the window and saw Chintz pass round in the direction of the barn.
Then she saw the burly figure of the man she was awaiting appear in
the clearing fronting the house.

George Iredale came along at a robust gait. He was clad in moleskin
riding-breeches, much stained with clay, as though he had been
digging; a soft shirt, the sleeves of which were rolled up above the
elbow; his Stetson hat was adjusted at the correct angle upon his
head; and he wore a pair of tan-coloured field boots, much smeared
with the signs of toil. He came rapidly towards the house. There was
nothing furtive, nothing guilty about this man's bearing; he came
readily to meet his visitor, and his appearance was the confident
bearing of a man who has little to fear.

She saw him look towards the window where she stood, and his
smile of welcome set her nerves tingling with a sensation she
failed to understand. Her hand went round to the pocket of her linen
riding-skirt and remained there. She heard his step in the hall;
she heard him approach and turn the door handle. As he came into
the room she faced him.

"Why, Prudence, this is a delightful----" he began. But she
interrupted him coldly.

"One moment," she said, and her voice was hoarse with the dryness of
her throat. "I have not come over for any visit of pleasure, but
strictly upon a matter of--of--business. There are some explanations
which we both need to make, but more especially you."

"Yes."

Iredale was gazing earnestly into the face before him. He was trying
to fathom the meaning of her coldness. For the moment he wondered;
then, slowly, he began to understand that Hervey had been at work.

"You got my note," he said, choosing to ignore the result of his
observations. "My delay in calling at the farm was unavoidable. I am
in the midst of disposing of my ranch. I had not expected that I
should have been called upon to do so so soon. I beg that you will
forgive me what must seem an unwarrantable delay."

Prudence's nerves were so strung that she felt as though she could
strike him for his calm words. Her condition demanded the opposition
of passion equal to her own. His coolness maddened her. So long had
she dwelt upon the accusation Hervey had brought against him that she
believed in this man's guilt. The evidence of h