her personality was still with him when
he ate his supper that evening in a restaurant in Bowenville. His own
past in relation to the other sex had been starred by no love
affair, not even by episodes of a sentimental nature; the character of
his work had for long periods kept him away from women's society,
but further than this there was the shadow upon his life, the shadow
of mystery that obliged him to follow a solitary course. He
considered himself unfree to seek friendships or favors among women.
By every demand of honor he was bound to solicit no girl's trust or
affection until that mystery was cleared and his father's innocence
established. It was for this reason that he seemed even to himself to
grow more hard, more harsh, more silent and aloof, until at last he
had come to believe that no fair face had the power to arouse his
interest or to quicken his pulse.

But now, this girl he had met at the ford!

Long-stifled emotions struggled in his breast. Sleeping desires awoke.
His spirit swelled like a caged thing within the shell of years of
indurated habit. A strange restlessness pervaded him. He had a fierce
passion somehow to rip in pieces the gray drab pattern of his
commonplace life.

Perhaps it was this revolt against the fetters of fate that caused him
to welcome the chance for action that presently was offered. The
restaurant was of an ordinary type, with a lunch counter at one side,
a row of tables down the middle and half a dozen booths along the wall
offering some degree of privacy. In one of these Steele Weir was
smoking a cigar and finishing his coffee before making his ride back
to camp. From the booth adjoining he had for some time been hearing
scraps of conversation; now all at once the voices rose in protest and
in answering explanation, in perplexed appeal and earnest assurance.

Weir's own reflections ceased. His head turned and remained fixed to
listen, while the cigar grew cold between his fingers. For ten minutes
or so his attitude of concentrated harkening to the two voices, a
girl's and a man's, remained unchanged. Little by little he was
piecing out the thread of the confidential dialogue--and of the little
drama being enacted in the booth.

His brows became lowering as he gathered its significance, his lips
drew together in a tight thin line. He did not move when he heard the
man push back his chair to leave the place, nor alter his position
until there came the sound of the door cl