“You’ll not be cross with me, ma’am because I couldn’t be lettin’ him throw away the beautiful bag?” Kate coaxed her mistress.  “I seen he would ha’ done it.  There was fire in his eyes.”

“Yes, he would have done it,” Angela echoed.  “I’m not cross with you, though I hoped you would refuse.  I’d no right to dictate when it meant your sacrificing a lot of money—­a hundred pounds at least, which would go begging unless you accepted.”

“A hundred pounds!” the girl stammered.  “Oh, I didn’t know the bag was worth the half of that!  Will I give it back to the gentleman?”

“It’s too late.  There would only be a scene.  He’d refuse to take the thing.”

Kate looked relieved.  “Then I’ll just try and sell it in the first big city where we’re stopping ma’am,” she said, with a happy sigh.  “You tould me a black cat brought luck!”

Angela neither slept well nor lay awake well that night.  Whenever she closed her eyes she seemed to meet Nick Hilliard’s beseeching look; and next day, angrily pushing him and his problems out of her mind, she devoted herself passionately to scenery.  He must have taken his meals very early or very late, or else had none at all, for not once did she see him in the dining-car.  The following day at luncheon, however, he was going out as she came in.  She bowed to him coldly, but her heart beat as if something exciting had happened.  That night she forgot to set back her watch, and so went to dinner earlier than usual.  Not far ahead, also bound for the dining-car, was Mr. Hilliard.  She disliked the large tables laid for four; and when he could, her favourite waiter kept a place for Mrs. May at a small table for two persons.  Often she got one to herself, but this evening, as she sat down, Mr. Millard appropriated the other chair.  Had he not been rather stout, he would have squeezed himself into place before she could protest; but being a tight fit, inadvertently he gave her time to think.

“This seat is engaged,” she said, raising her voice to reach the ears of Mr. Nickson Hilliard.  He turned and saw invitation in her eyes.  “I’m keeping your chair,” she calmly informed him—­since between two evils it is wise to choose the less.

“Thank you,” said Nick, as quietly as if it had been a long engagement.

“Did that galoot annoy you?” he asked, dropping into the seat.

“No,” said Angela.  “But I preferred you for a neighbour.”

Having explained her motives, she made it clear that conversation was not included, and Nick, knowing that a man in disgrace should be seen and not heard, was silent.  When Mrs. May had finished a light meal, she unbent far enough to say:  “It was clever—­and kind of you to understand.  One thing more!  I must have your address at Bakersfield, to send the money.”

Then Nick told her that he lived on a ranch a good many miles from Bakersfield.  “I call it the ‘Lucky Star Ranch,’” he added.