He halted on the threshold,
however, for beside a table in the dining room, in the feeble glare of
a light that stood at her elbow, sat Betty, reading a book.
She looked up as the door opened, betraying no surprise, smiling
mildly, and speaking as she might have spoken had she been addressing a
friend.
"Won't you come in?"
She placed the book down, sticking a piece of paper between the leaves
to mark her place, and stood up.
"I have been waiting for you. I heard you come in. I expected you for
supper, and when you didn't come I saved yours. If you will come out
into the kitchen I will get it for you."
Calumet did not move. Had Betty shown the slightest dismay or
perturbation at sight of him he would not have hesitated an instant in
walking past her to get the food which she had said was in the kitchen.
But her easy unconcern, her cool assumption of proprietorship, aroused
in him that obstinacy which the revelation of her power over him had
brought into being. He did not purpose to allow her to lead him to
anything.
"I don't reckon I'll grub," he said.
"Then of course you have been to Lazette," she returned. "You had
dinner there."
"Look here," he said truculently; "does it make any difference to you
where I've been or what I've done?"
"Perhaps it really doesn't make any difference," she answered calmly;
"but of course I am interested.
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