The morning was cool, sweet, fresh, with a red sun presaging a hot day.  The big car hummed like a droning bee and seemed to cover the miles as if by magic.  Lenore sat with face uncovered, enjoying the breeze and the endless colorful scene flashing by, listening to Jake’s amusing comments, and trying to keep back thought of what discovery might await her before the end of this day.

Once across the Copper River, they struck the gradual ascent, and here the temperature began to mount and the dust to fly.  Lenore drew her veils close and, leaning comfortably back, she resigned herself to wait and to endure.

By the flight of a crow it was about a hundred miles from Anderson’s ranch to Palmer; but by the round-about roads necessary to take the distance was a great deal longer.  Lenore was well aware when they got up on the desert, and the time came when she thought she would suffocate.  There appeared to be intolerable hours in which no one spoke and only the hum and creak of the machine throbbed in her ears.  She could not see through her veils and did not part them until a stop was made at Palmer.

Her father got out, sputtering and gasping, shaking the dust in clouds from his long linen coat.  Jake, who always said he lived on dust and heat, averred it was not exactly a regular fine day.  Lenore looked out, trying to get a breath of air.  Nash busied himself with the hot engine.

The little country town appeared dead, and buried under dust.  There was not a person in sight nor a sound to be heard.  The sky resembled molten lead, with a blazing center too bright for the gaze of man.

Anderson and Jake went into the little hotel to get some refreshments.  Lenore preferred to stay in the car, saying she wanted only a cool drink.  The moment the two men were out of sight Nash straightened up to gaze darkly and hungrily at Lenore.

“This’s a good a chance as we’ll get,” he said, in an eager, hurried whisper.

“For what?” asked Lenore, aghast.

“To run off,” he replied, huskily.

Lenore had proceeded so cleverly to carry out her scheme that in three days Nash had begun to implore and demand that she elope with him.  He had been so much of a fool.  But she as yet had found out but little about him.  His right name was Ruenke.  He was a socialist.  He had plenty of money and hinted of mysterious sources for more.

At this Lenore hid her face, and while she fell back in pretended distress, she really wanted to laugh.  She had learned something new in these few days, and that was to hate.

“Oh no! no!” she murmured.  “I—­I can’t think of that—­yet.”

“But why not?” he demanded, in shrill violence.  His gloved hand clenched on the tool he held.

“Mother has been so unhappy—­with my brother Jim—­off to the war.  I—­I just couldn’t—­now.  Harry, you must give me time.  It’s all so—­so sudden.  Please wait!”