He did not
speak, but his lips moved as though he repeated her words to himself,
over and over again; and he gazed at her with a strange bewildered,
doubting look, as though he could not believe his own suffering.
Impulsively Helen went a step toward him. "Larry!" she said. "Larry!"
Her voice seemed to arouse him and he stood erect as though by a
conscious effort of will. Then that old self-mocking smile was on his
lips. He was laughing at his hurt--making sport of himself and his cruel
predicament.
But to Helen there was that in his smile which wrung her woman heart.
"Oh, Larry," she said gently. "Forgive me; I am so sorry; I--"
He put out his hand with a gesture of protest, and his voice was calm
and courteous. "I beg your pardon, Helen. It was stupid of me not to
have understood. I forgot myself for the moment. It was all so
unexpected--meeting you like this. I did not think." He looked away
toward his waiting horse and to the steer lying on the ground. "So you
and Stanford Manning--Good old Stan! I am glad for him. And for you,
too, Helen. Why, it was I who introduced him to you; do you remember?"
He smiled again that mirthless, self-mocking smile, as he added without
giving her time to speak, "If you will excuse me for a moment, I will
rid your camp of the unwelcome presence of that beast yonder.
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