"Do you mind?" asked Mary Brown. "I couldn't find a place that would
do for camping."
And she summoned her most winning smile. It was wasted, she knew at
once, for the stranger hardened perceptibly, and his lip curled
slightly in scorn or anger. In all her life Mary had never met a man
so obdurate, and, moreover, she felt that he could not be wooed into a
good humor.
"If you'd gone farther up the gorge," said the other, "you'd of found
the best sort of a camping place--water and everything."
"Then I'll go," said Mary, shrinking at the thought of the strange,
cold outdoors compared with this cheery fire. But she put on the
slicker and started for the door.
At the last moment the host was touched with compunction. He called:
"Wait a minute. There ain't no call to hurry. If you can get along
here just stick around."
For a moment Mary hesitated, knowing that only the unwritten law of
Western hospitality compelled that speech; it was the crackle and
flare of the bright fire which overcame her pride.
She laid off the slicker again, saying, with another smile: "For just
a few minutes, if you don't mind.
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