She turned away a little impatiently and looked anxiously towards
the point where Dawson had disappeared. Bent followed her eyes.
"He'll be here in a moment, Miss Mallory. He has to drive slowly through
the grain, but I hear the wheels." He stopped, and his voice took up its
previous note of boyish hesitation. "By the way--I'll--I'll be going up
to the Rancho this afternoon to see the major. Have you any message for
Mrs. Randolph--or for--for Miss Adele?"
"No"--said Rose, hesitatingly, "and--and"--
"I see," interrupted Bent, carelessly. "You don't want anything said
about your coming here. I won't."
It struck her that he seemed to have no ulterior meaning in the
suggestion. But before she could make any reply, Dawson reappeared,
driving a handsome mare harnessed to a light, spider-like vehicle. He
had also assumed, evidently in great haste, a black frock coat buttoned
over his waistcoatless and cravatless shirt, and a tall black hat that
already seemed to be cracking in the sunlight.
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