During the days which followed, days in which Rod Norton lay quiet in a darkened room, Virginia Page was conscious of having awakened some form of interest in Caleb Patten.  His eyes followed her when she came and went, and, when she surprised them, were withdrawn swiftly, but not before she had seen in them a speculative thoughtfulness.  While she noted this she gave it little thought, so occupied was her mind with other matters.  She had postponed, as long as she could, a talk with Julius Struve, her spirit galled that she must in the end go to him “like a beggar,” as she expressed it to herself.  But one day, her head erect, she followed the hotel keeper into his office.  In the hallway she encountered Patten.

“May I have a word with you?” Patten asked.

But Virginia had steeled herself to the interview with Struve and would no longer set it aside, even for a moment.

“If you care to wait on the veranda,” she told Patten, “I’ll be out in a minute.  I want to see Mr. Struve now.”

Patten stood aside and watched her pass, the shrewdly questioning look in his eyes.  When she disappeared in the office he remained where she had left him, listening.  When she began to speak with Struve, her voice rapid and hinting at nervousness, he came a quiet step nearer the door she had closed after her.

“I am ashamed of myself, Mr. Struve,” said Virginia, coming straight to the point.  “I owe you already for a month’s board and room rent for myself and Elmer.  I . . .”

“That’s perfectly all right, Miss Virginia,” said Struve hurriedly.  “I know the sort of job you’ve got on your hands making collections.  If you can wait I am willing to do so.  Glad to do so, in fact.”

Patten, fingering his little mustache, then letting his thick fingers drop to the diamond in his tie, smiled with satisfaction.  Smiling, he tiptoed down the hall and went out upon the veranda where he smoked his cigar serenely.  When Virginia came out to him her face was flaming.  Had he not beard Struve’s words, he would have thought that his answer to her apology had been an angry demand for immediate payment.  Patten failed to understand how the girl’s fine, independent nature writhed in a situation all but intolerable.  That she appreciated gratefully Struve’s quick kindness did not minimize her own mortification.

Patten watched her seat herself; then he launched himself into his subject.  Virginia listened at first with faint interest, then with quickened wonder.  For the life of her she could not tell if the little man were seeking to flatter or insult her.

“I have leased an old, deserted ranch-house just on the edge of town,” he told her.  “Got it for a song, too.  Some first-rate land goes with it; I’ll probably buy the whole thing before long.  There’s plenty of good water.  Now, what am I up to, eh?  Just the same thing all the time, if you want to know.  And that means making money.”