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He’s very unselfish. He’d always sacrifice himself for any one he loved.”

“For me, for instance?”

“Of course. But he’s kind to every one, I think. Rodney Marsh calls him ‘a white man.’ ”

“When did you see Rodney Marsh?”

“Yesterday, when I was walking out at the back of the run. I twisted my ankle a little and he helped me home. Let me ride his horse.”

“Really.”

Mrs. Holmes obviously wasn’t interested in the head-shepherd.

“Mr. Holmes has told me I may have a horse to ride—all of my own—while I’m here. Isn’t it good of him?”

“You must ride if you take the children out.”

Ann felt that Mrs. Holmes was no longer paying much attention to the conversation. The Ralstons came out to say “good night”; and Ann thought it might be more tactful on her part if she slipped away to bed.

But she couldn’t sleep at once. She had been excited by her day. By new scenes and new faces, and perhaps more than a little by Gerald Waring. She tried not to think of him. In her heart of hearts she knew he wasn’t worth thinking about, and that the interest he excited in her—that he deliberately endeavored to excite—was not a very healthy interest. For it had in it an element of baseness. And he was not troubled with scruples as far as women were concerned. His manner made that plain enough. She