orld had been altogether
different, and the few frontier specimens she had met at the Briggs'
dinner table had not impressed her with anything except their shyness
and manifest awkwardness in her presence. The West itself appealed to
her, its bigness, its nearness to the absolutely primeval, but not the
people she had so far met. They were not wrapped in a glamor of
romance; she was altogether too keen to idealize them. They were not
her kind, and while she granted their worth, they were more picturesque
about their own affairs than when she came in close contact with them.
Those were her first impressions. And so she looked at Roaring Bill
Wagstaff, over the way, with a quite impersonal interest.

He came into Briggs' place for supper. Mrs. Briggs was her own
waitress. Briggs himself sat beside Hazel. She heard him grunt, and
saw a mild look of surprise flit over his countenance when Roaring Bill
walked in and coolly took a seat. But not until Hazel glanced at the
newcomer did she recognize him as the man who had fought in the street.
He was looking straight at her when she did glance up, and the mingled
astonishment and frank admiration in his clear gray eyes made Hazel
drop hers quickly to her plate. Since Mr. Andrew Bush, she was
beginning to hate men who looked at her that way. And she could not
help seeing that many did so look.

Roaring Bill ate his supper in silence. No one spoke to him, and he
addressed no one except to ask that certain dishes be passed. Among
the others conversation was general. Hazel noticed that, and wondered
why--wondered if Roaring Bill was taboo. She had sensed enough of the
Western point of view to know that the West held nothing against a man
who was quick to blows--rather admired such a one, in fact. And her
conclusions were not complimentary to Mr. Bill Wagstaff. If people
avoided him in that country, he must be a very hard citizen indeed.
And Hazel no more than formulated this opinion than she was ashamed of
it, having her own recent experience in mind. Whereupon she dismissed
Bill Wagstaff from her thoughts altogether when she left the table.

Exactly three days later Hazel came into the dining-room at noon, and
there received her first lesson in the truth that this world is a very
small place, after all. A nattily dressed gentleman seated to one side
of her place at table rose with the most polite bows and extended hand.
Hazel recognized him at a glance as Mr. H