“I’ll settle that score with Moore,” he went on.  “Besides, I won’t have him on the ranch.”

“Dad needs good hands,” she said, with her eyes on the gray sage slopes.  Mention of Wilson Moore augmented the aloofness in her.  An annoyance pricked along her veins.

“Before we get any farther I’d like to know something.  Has Moore ever made love to you?”

Columbine felt that prickling augment to a hot, sharp wave of blood.  Why was she at the mercy of strange, quick, unfamiliar sensations?  Why did she hesitate over that natural query from Jack Belllounds?

“No.  He never has,” she replied, presently.

“That’s damn queer.  You used to like him better than anybody else.  You sure hated me....  Columbine, have you outgrown that?”

“Yes, of course,” she answered.  “But I hardly hated you.”

“Dad said you were willing to marry me.  Is that so?”

Columbine dropped her head.  His question, kindly put, did not affront her, for it had been expected.  But his actual presence, the meaning of his words, stirred in her an unutterable spirit of protest.  She had already in her will consented to the demand of the old man; she was learning now, however, that she could not force her flesh to consent to a surrender it did not desire.

“Yes, I’m willing,” she replied, bravely.

“Soon?” he flashed, with an eager difference in his voice.

“If I had my way it’d not be—­too soon,” she faltered.  Her downcast eyes had seen the stride he had made closer to her, and she wanted to run.

“Why?  Dad thinks it’d be good for me,” went on Belllounds, now, with strong, self-centered thought.  “It’d give me responsibility.  I reckon I need it.  Why not soon?”

“Wouldn’t it be better to wait awhile?” she asked.  “We do not know each other—­let alone care—­”

“Columbine, I’ve fallen in love with you.” he declared, hotly.

“Oh, how could you!” cried Columbine, incredulously.

“Why, I always was moony over you—­when we were kids,” he said.  “And now to meet you grown up like this—­so pretty and sweet—­such a—­a healthy, blooming girl....  And dad’s word that you’d be my wife soon—­mine—­why, I just went off my head at sight of you.”

Columbine looked up at him and was reminded of how, as a boy, he had always taken a quick, passionate longing for things he must and would have.  And his father had not denied him.  It might really be that Jack had suddenly fallen in love with her.

“Would you want to take me without my—­my love?” she asked, very low.  “I don’t love you now.  I might some time, if you were good—­if you made dad happy—­if you conquered—­”

“Take you!  I’d take you if you—­if you hated me,” he replied, now in the grip of passion.

“I’ll tell dad how I feel,” she said, faintly, “and—­and marry you when he says.”

He kissed her, would have embraced her had she not put him back.