She was stately, beautiful; her
hair was worn high, her arms were bare underneath a shimmer of
lace, her gown exposed a throat round and smooth and adorable. In
reality, she was simply clad; but to the Ranger's untrained eye
she seemed regal, and his own rough clothes became painfully
conspicuous by contrast.
Alaire knew how to be a gracious and winning hostess; of course
she did not appear to notice her guest's embarrassment. She had
rather welcomed the thought that this man cared for her, and yet,
had she deliberately planned to dampen his feeling, she could
hardly have succeeded better than by showing him the wide
disparity in their lives and situations. Dave was dismayed; he
felt very poor and ridiculous. Alaire was no longer the woman he
had ridden with through the solitudes; her very friendliness
seemed to be a condescension.
He did not linger long after they had dined, for he wished to be
alone, where he could reach an understanding with himself. On the
steps he waited just a moment for Alaire to mention, if she chose,
that subject which they had still left open on the night before.
Reading his thought, she said:
"You are expecting me to say something about Panfilo Sanchez.
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