The Trail of Conflict

of her hair, betrayed the troubled expression in her lovely eyes. Nicholas Fairfax was in his room. He had collapsed when he went up to dress for dinner. Doctor Rand, whom he had brought with him, st

adcloth. The flamboyant effect of his black necktie made the girl think of the

ty girl," he bowed with somewhat ponderous gallantry in Jerry's direction, "what can you expect but collapse? He's crazy about you, Steve, an

re he had been looking out upon the snow-dusted worl

rally from this attack,

truth, Steve. He knows. He's wire

h-

he had made a sound. A delicate pink stole to her hair as she met Steve's st

re makes good coffee, Mrs. Jerry. Bring her out to the Double O and invite us old bachelors for eats o

ple in that wilderness, Doc," announc

seething cauldron of society in comparison to some of the places. You knew that Old Nick and Greyson had given the Bear Creek ranch to a returned service man, didn't you, Steve?" t

live there all alone?"

r Jerry would have sworn that Doc Rand was embarrassed. "We-here I am talking when my patient needs me. It's a

in his hand. Rand looked after him, then thoughtfully at the girl where she sat in th

ve-it will all come right. Things have a marvelous unbelievable way of c

hould he h

the mantel. Jerry's glance followed his. The eyes, so like Steve's, were thoughtful, there was a suspicion of laughter in the curve of the lips, the flesh tints were marvelously lovely,

Peter love her like

coat tails and flapped them in t

o his children. Her spirit is just as much alive for her husband and son as it was the day she left them. That's why Steve has kept straight through temptations which would have

ghter gleamed through the tears which his tribute to the mother had brought. "You shouldn't pry into

e seen you. Don't let Nick's condition depress you. He may live for weeks and when he does go,

ness assured?" ask

g gray eyes-"but I'll bet my broncho i

arated chords or flowing melody, she played with a sympathy and sureness which showed the touch of an artist. She knew when Steve came into the room and crossed to the window. As the last note died away she turned. He stood with his hands clenched behind his back. What was interesting him outside, she wondered. She wanted to speak to him but she never yet had address

e to talk to you," she admitted hesitatingly

you--' when you want to attract my attention?" he demanded bel

en as he opened his lips to speak she hurried on, "I wanted to ask if you were in love with Felice Denbigh? No-no-don't mistake me," as his blue eyes darkened to purple-black, and h

ou in love with Greyson

she must be the picture of guilt as she stood there, her color coming and going, her heart

at her own lack of poise she looked up with frank defiance. "I

shed d

Mrs. Denbigh this mornin

will never

should avoid li

controlled her voice. "Pardon! My mistake," she d

s life. It would have been better for him and for her had he been shot to

much like your

it. He smiled up at the portrait-"Mother was-well--" he cleared the huskiness from his voice and went on, "As I was

t Felice g

fancy that Phil

doesn't take the vow 'and forsaking all

t that you do not

ord. Always to me it takes on the semblance of Medusa's head in my school mythology, its snaky,

ard som

ntended to be all joy-ri

mea

be those who can count back at least four generations of ancestors who have, in spite of disappointment and disillusion, poverty or riches, sickness or health, kept their marriage covenants. A curious idea, i

electricity. The girl wondered if he were throttling a desire to shake her. She hoped so. He met h

lease." He stopped and turned. "If-if you should see Dad-do not menti

?" relen

homesickness last winter