He
kicked away another dog. Then he whirled and stepped back toward her. It
was anger and not courtesy that impelled him.
"He isn't here, and he won't be here. And how many times more have I got
to tell you not to be impertinent to me?"
"How, Mr. Duke?"
"By that infernal nickname," he stormed. "Young woman, I've told you to
stay on your side of the river, and you--"
"Really you ought to be called 'Duke' if you order folks off the earth
that way," she cried, saucily. "But I did not come to see you, Mr. Duke.
I came to see Harlan. Has he got home yet?"
She swung sideways on her horse and nursed her slender ankle across her
knee. It was plain that she had expected this reception, and knew how to
meet it. She gazed at him serenely from big, gray eyes. She smiled and
held her head a little to one side, her nose tiptilted a bit, giving her
an aggravatingly teasing expression.
"I tell you he's not here, and he won't be here."
"Oh yes, he will. For"--she smiled more broadly, and there was malice in
her eyes--"I sent word to him to come, and he's coming.
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