"Well!" Millie, appearing with a tray of late supper to take up-stairs
to one of the guests' rooms along about ten o'clock that evening, almost
ran into Marvin, who had returned to the hotel in the hope of seeing
Bill and giving him the full reason for his not being a party to the
sale of the place. The lights in the lobby were turned low and he had
managed to evade the sheriff, who was sitting in his buck-board outside,
waiting for Lemuel Townsend, who was to return to Reno with him.
Millie's exclamation, because of her surprise in seeing Marvin again,
escaped her in pleasant tones, but her memory asserted itself and the
smile rapidly faded from her face and she gave a haughty toss of her
head, saying, as he stepped in front of her when she started for the
stairs, "Will you please let me pass?"
But Marvin had wanted to see her quite as much as he did Bill, the
impression she had given him of her liking for Thomas having cut deeper
than the events of the earlier part of the day had given him time to
realize. Ignoring her request, he removed his hat and said, as he
searched her eyes for some play of the old light that had often
gladdened his heart in the days when they were together in Thomas's
office in San Francisco, "I suppose you are surprised to find me here
still?"
Millie swayed toward the Nevada desk, depositing her tray upon it. She
faced him, her eyes flashing, her cheeks flushed. Her first impulse was
not to answer him. She could not understand his interference in the
matter of the deed. Neither did she believe one word he had uttered
against Hammond and Thomas. On the contrary, Thomas's apparent interest
in her and her mother and his constant flattery and attentions had
attained their end. She believed in him implicitly and therefore had
given credence to every word he had said against Marvin. Nevertheless,
the charge that he was not honest could not quite overcome the
quickening of her interest which had manifested itself lately in a heart
that ran far ahead of itself at his approach.
After a silence in which she stared at him steadily, his eyes answering
hers with an unflinching candor mixed with a vague wistfulness, she
answered him. "I don't think anything you could do would surprise me,
after all that has happened to-day and all that I've been told about
you."
"Millie!" Marvin awkwardly rolled his hat in his hands, while his speech
faltered. "I've been waiting around here now for two hours in the hope
that I could explain to you why I wanted to stop that sale. And I cannot
bear to have you believe that I am a thief and--"
Millie was touched by his attitude. Her hand left her hip and started
toward his arm in friendly contact. But again returned the whole picture
of the afternoon's events and she coolly turned from him and went to
take up her tray again.
"Will you please let me pass?" she asked a second time, as he tried to
prevail upon her by taking the tray from her and setting it down again.
"I wish to have nothing to say to you. I do not believe your excuses.
Mr. Thomas is the best friend I have in the world. I won't listen to a
word against him, and I am sure he is too fine a gentleman to say
anything about any one unless he were sure that it was true." As she
came to the last words she swallowed to keep back the tears, for
although they were uttered in perfect faith, her words burned into her
own heart with as much bitterness as they were directed toward Marvin.
He was too filled with his mission and too sure that Millie's interest
in him was gone to notice the catch in her voice or to attribute it to
any sense of affection for him, had he noticed it. He took her hands in
his and shook them gently in an endeavor to get her to look into his
eyes again. "Millie, please listen to me! I know what I'm talking about
when I say that Mrs. Jones is being cheated and robbed--"
She broke away from him, and stood glaring at him, as she stamped her
foot. "Don't you dare to say another word about Raymond Thomas to me!
Anyway, it is none of your business if he is cheating us!"
"Millie, Millie." Marvin's voice was full of pleading as he persisted,
going close to her again and shaking his head sadly. "Why do you allow
yourself to be taken in this way? Don't you know that the only reason I
am concerned is because I care--Oh, well." He turned away with a sigh
and went over to the Nevada desk and took up the tray. "I won't say any
more. Will you let me carry the tray up-stairs for you? I'll go then,
and you won't be bothered with me any more."
The glare in her eyes melted and she made a gesture as if she would
call him to her side again. But she could not forget so easily, and she
said, without turning to look at him, in tones less sharp, "Why didn't
you tell me before that you suspected him?"
"How could I? You told me how much you thought of Raymond Thomas. I
hadn't realized that before--" He put the tray down and came to her side
once more.
"Do you mean to say," Millie was again angered, "that I told you I loved
Mr. Thomas?"
"That's what I understood," Marvin replied.
The two stood there, Millie glancing at him in contempt, while his whole
heart went out to her from his eyes.
He was the first to break the silence. Almost touching her hand with
his, he said, softly, "You mean you don't love him?"
Millie snatched her hand away and went back to the desk. "You're always
wrong! I told you he was my best friend and he is. I never said I loved
him."
If Marvin had not been attracted by the arabesque of the faded
rose-garlanded rug at that moment, he would have found some solace in
the lowered lids and half-smile which Millie vouchsafed him. But he did
not see it. Slowly he followed her back to the desk, this time standing
aside as she made her way toward the stairs. "Well, say it now--I
mean"--he hesitated, embarrassed, then went on--"I mean--say you don't
care for him. And then if you'll only give me time I'll find out what
their game is."
Millie stood at the newel-post, steadying the tray against it. Looking
down at him, the hard gleam returned to her eyes as she replied,
emphatically: "Oh, I don't want you to find out anything about it! I
know you're mistaken and you're not going to prevent mother's selling
the place, because it's already sold. As soon as daddy's name is signed
to it we get the money."
"Well, you sha'n't have that, Millie." Marvin swung his hat against the
post without looking up at her. Through the window he traced the
moonbeams as they filtered through the pines outside. Above the hoot of
an owl the swish of the lake came in to them. They both stood there,
gazing out to where so few weeks ago they had walked in the happiness of
an unconscious awakening.
It was within Millie's heart to relax as she saw him sigh. From above
just then came the sound of Mrs. Jones's voice. It brought back her
concern for the tired woman above-stairs. With it returned her anger at
Marvin. "You're trying to prevent this sale just to hurt Mr. Thomas in
my eyes!" she snapped.
He turned and met her with the question, "Thomas told you that, didn't
he?"
She nodded.
"Just the same, Millie," and here Marvin mounted the step and stood
close to her as he looked squarely in her eyes, "I'll never let Bill
sign that deed. Some day you'll thank me for it."
This was more than her patience could stand. In her anger she almost
dropped the tray, but she managed to hold it taut against the balustrade
as she frowned at him and stamped her foot.
"Thank you?" she asked, in no gentle voice. "I shall always hate and
despise you for it. Always! I hope I shall never see you again, and if I
do I shall never notice you--nor speak to you the longest day I live!"
Exhausted with her temper, she turned to mount the stairs, when she
looked out toward the veranda and saw a figure slowly and stealthily
coming up the steps. She recognized it at once and shrieked out, just as
the sheriff entered the door, "John, look out!"
But Marvin had been watching her, and the fear in her eyes as she saw
Blodgett had been warning enough for him. He gave three quick skips to
the other side of the lobby, making mock obeisance toward her, laughter
in his voice because of her betrayal of her solicitude in spite of all
that she had said.
"Thank you, Miss Buckley," he called as he went up the California stairs
to the hall above, just as the sheriff had reached out for him, "thank
you, Miss Buckley! I shall be grateful to you--always!"