he knew what. She reminded him somewhat of Glory when Glory was
cloyed with peaceful living. He even told himself viciously that Myrt
Forsyth had hair the exact shade of Glory's, and it came near giving
him a dislike of the horse.

The conversation in the corner, after certain conventional subjects had
been exhausted, came to Miss Forsyth's desire something like this: She
said how she loved to waltz,--with the right partner, that is. Apropos
the right partner, she glanced slyly from the end of her long eyes and
remarked:

"Will--Mr. Davidson--is an _ideal_ partner, don't you think? Are
you--but of _course_ you must be _acquainted_ with him, living in the
same _neighborhood_?" Her inflection made a question of the
declaration.

"Certainly I am acquainted with Mr. Davidson," said Miss Satterly with
just the right shade of indifference. "He does dance very well, though
there are others I like better." That, of course, was a prevarication.
"You knew him before tonight?"

Miss Forsyth laughed that sort of laugh which may mean anything you
like. "_Knew_ him? Why, we were en--that is, we grew _up_ in the same
_town_. I was so perfectly _amazed_ to find him _here_, poor fellow."

"Why poor fellow?" asked Miss Satterly, the direct. "Because you found
him? or because he is here?"

The long eyes regarded her curiously. "Why, don't you _know_?
Hasn't--hasn't it _followed_ him?"

"I don't know, I'm sure," said the schoolma'am, calmly facing the
stare. "If you mean a dog, he doesn't own one, I believe. Cowboys
don't seem to take to dogs; they're afraid they might be mistaken for
sheep-herders, perhaps--and that would be a disgrace."

Miss Forsyth leaned back and her eyes, half closed as they were, saw
Weary away down by the door. "No, I didn't mean a _dog_. I'm _glad_
if he has gotten _quite away_ from--he's such a _dear_ fellow! Even if
he _did_--but I never believed it, you know. If only he had _trusted_
me, and _stayed_ to face-- But he went without telling me _goodbye_,
even, and we-- But he was _afraid_, you see--"

Miss Satterly also glanced across to where Weary stood gloomily alone,
his hands thrust into his pockets. "I really can't imagine Mr.
Davidson as being afraid," she remarked defensively.

"Oh, but you don't understand! Will is _physically_ brave--and he was
afraid I-- but I _believed_ in him, _always_--even when--" She broke
off suddenly and became prettily diffident. "I wonder _