Now with quick fingers he made his cigarette. She
stopped a dozen paces from him, and though one would have said that she
was not looking at him, saw the flare of his match, glimpsed the hard
set lines of his face, and knew that he would not speak until she had
spoken. And the lines of her own face grew hard, and she turned away
from him, feeling a quick spurt of anger that she had so much as looked
at him when he had not turned his eyes upon her. He smoked his
cigarette, swept up saddle and bridle, and moved on, striking over the
ridge and down upon the other side.
It was perhaps ten minutes later when she saw, far off to the left, the
glimmer of a light, lost it through the trees, found it again and knew
that it told of some habitation. They came abreast of a branch trail,
leading toward the lighted window; the girl's eager eyes found it
readily, and then noted that Thornton was passing on as though he had
seen neither light nor trail. She spoke hurriedly, saying:
"Isn't that the place? Where the light is?"
"No," he told her colourlessly and without turning. "That's the Henry
place. We're going on to Smith's."
"Why don't we stop here? It's nearer. And I'm tired."
"We can stop and rest," he replied.
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