When Warden dismounted near the cabin door she thought it was her father returning, and she got up and went to the stove, where she stood, lifting the iron lids, preparatory to starting a fire.

She felt that she could not look at her father, after what had happened; and so she laid some wood in the stove, deliberately keeping her back to the door, trying to think of something to say to her father—­for she had determined to tell him about the incident of the morning.

She was forced to go to a shelf for matches, however, and when she turned, her eyes flashing with accusation, she saw Warden standing in the open doorway, watching her.  She stood very still, and spoke no word.

When Warden noted the swift change of expression that came over her face—­the astonishment that instantly dominated all else, he grinned smoothly.

“Surprised to see me, Miss Hamlin?  You shouldn’t be, after what happened at the schoolhouse today.  I have called to have a talk with you about it.”

The girl’s quick smile was cold and indifferent.  What happened to her now was of little importance.  She supposed Warden had come to tell her she had been discharged; but that made little difference to her.  She felt that she had done right in attempting to chastize Jimmy Singleton; and she would do it again under the same circumstances.

“Is it necessary to talk?” she questioned, coldly.  “I am not sorry for what I did.  I suppose you have come to notify me of my dismissal.”

“On the contrary, I have come to assure you that you did what was right—­exactly what I would have done,” smiled Warden.  “The only criticism I have is that you should not have dismissed school; you should have stayed right there and had it out.”

Warden stepped inside and walked close to Ruth.

“I want to shake hands with you, Miss Hamlin; you have the necessary spirit.”

Some color surged into Ruth’s face.  She realized now, that she did not want to lose the position—­that it meant much to her.  It meant at least her independence from her father, that she could support herself without depending upon the money he gained from his guilty practices.  It meant, too, that the additional disgrace of being summarily dismissed would not descend upon her.

Impulsively, she took Warden’s hand.  She looked inquiringly at him though, when he gripped it tightly, and the color that had come into her face fled, leaving it pale, when Warden continued to hold the hand, gripping it so hard that she could not withdraw it.  She looked intently at him, over the few feet of space that was between them, noting the queer light in his eyes—­a glow of passion; watching the crimson tide that rose above his collar, staining his face darkly.

For the driving desire that had seized Warden had conquered him.  Physical contact with the girl had brought his passions to life again.  They had overwhelmed him, had sent his grain skittering back into those dead and gone periods when man’s desires surmounted laws.