"You're quite right, Mr. Buck," she began.
"Buck--jest plain Buck," he interrupted her. "But I hadn't jest finished," he went on deliberately. "I want to show you how you can't do those things the old--your housekeeper was yearnin' to do. Y' see, you can't get a 'hired' man nearer than Leeson Butte. You can't get him in less'n two weeks. You can't do the chores yourself, an' that old--your housekeeper ain't fit to do anything but make hash. Then you can't let the stock go hungry. Besides all of which you're doing me a real kindness letting me help you out. Ther's no favor to you. It's sure to me, an' these creatures which can't do things for themselves. So it would be a sound proposition to cut that 'but' right out of our talk an' send word to your lawyer feller in Leeson Butte for a 'hired' man. An' when he gits around, why--well, you won't be needin' me."
All the time he was speaking his fork was busy clearing the stalls of their litter, and, at the finish, he leant on the haft of it and quizzically smiled into the girl's beautiful, half-troubled face.
Joan contemplated protesting, but somehow his manner was so friendly, so frank and honest, that she felt it would be ungracious of her. Finally he won the day, and she broke into a little laugh of yielding.
"You talk too--too well for me," she cried. "I oughtn't to accept," she added. "I know I oughtn't, but what am I to do? I can't do--these things." Then she added regretfully: "And I thought it would be all so simple."
Buck saw her disappointment, and it troubled him. He felt in a measure responsible, so he hastened to make amends.
"Wal, y' see, men are rough an' strong. They can do the things needed around a farm. I don't guess women wer' made for--for the rough work of life. It ain't a thing to feel mean about. It's jest in the nature of things."
Joan nodded. All the time he was speaking she had been studying him, watching the play of expression upon his mobile features rather than paying due attention to his words.
She decided that she liked the look of him. It was not that he was particularly handsome. He seemed so strong, and yet so--so unconcerned. She wondered if that were only his manner. She knew that often volcanic natures, reckless, were hidden under a perfect calm. She wondered if it were so in his case. His eyes were so full of a brilliant dark light. Yes, surely this man roused might be an interesting personality. She remembered him last night. She remembered the strange, superheated fire in those same eyes when he had hurled the gold at her feet. Yes, she felt sure a tremendous force lay behind his calmness of manner.