It would have taken an eye shrewder than David's
to have seen into the secret springs of her conduct. He only knew that
she had been kinder, friendlier, less withdrawn into the sanctuary of
her virgin coldness, round which in the beginning he had hovered. His
heart was high, swelled by the promise of her beaming looks and ready
smiles. At last, in this drama of slow winning she was drawing closer,
shyly melting, her whims and perversities mellowing to the rich, sweet
yielding of the ultimate surrender.
"We ought to be at Fort Bridger now in a few days," he said. "Courant
says if all goes well we can make it by Thursday and of course he
knows."
"Courant!" she exclaimed with the familiar note of scorn. "He knows a
little of everything, doesn't he?"
"Why don't you like him, Missy? He's a fine man for the trail."
"Yes, I dare say he is. But that's not everything."
"Why don't you like him? Come, tell the truth."
They had spoken before of her dislike of Courant. She had revealed it
more frankly to David than to anyone else. It was one of the subjects
over which she could become animated in the weariest hour.
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