o so, in fact."

Patten, fingering his little mustache, then letting his thick fingers
drop to the diamond in his tie, smiled with satisfaction. Smiling, he
tiptoed down the hall and went out upon the veranda where he smoked his
cigar serenely. When Virginia came out to him her face was flaming.
Had he not beard Struve's words, he would have thought that his answer
to her apology had been an angry demand for immediate payment. Patten
failed to understand how the girl's fine, independent nature writhed in
a situation all but intolerable. That she appreciated gratefully
Struve's quick kindness did not minimize her own mortification.

Patten watched her seat herself; then he launched himself into his
subject. Virginia listened at first with faint interest, then with
quickened wonder. For the life of her she could not tell if the little
man were seeking to flatter or insult her.

"I have leased an old, deserted ranch-house just on the edge of town,"
he told her. "Got it for a song, too. Some first-rate land goes with
it; I'll probably buy the whole thing before long. There's plenty of
good water. Now, what am I up to, eh? Just the same thing all the
time, if you want to know. And that means making money."

Leaning forward he knocked the ash from his cigar and brought himself
confidentially nearer.

"An open-air sanatorium," he announced triumphantly. "For tuberculosis
patients. There are lots of them," and he waved his arm in a wide half
circle, "coming out of the East on the run, scared to death, and with
more or less money in their pockets. It's a big proposition, a sure
money-getter."

He grew more animated than she had ever dreamed he could be, as he
sketched his plans. While she was wondering why he had come to her
with them he gave his explanation, made her his double offer. Then it
was that she was puzzled to know whether he meant to compliment her or
merely to insult her.

In a word he assured her from the heights of superiority to which he
had ascended these last few days of importance, the practice of
medicine was no woman's work at best; certainly not in a land like
this, where a man's endurance, breadth or mind, and keener innate
ability to cope with big situations were indicated. No work for a slip
of a girl like Virginia Page. Of that Caleb Patten assured her
unhesitatingly. But there was work for such as her and in a place
which he would create for her. Fairly bewildered at his au