The Hunted Woman | Page 5

you, I will go," she said. "And for
that--in there--thank you!"
CHAPTER II
They passed down an aisle through the tall trees, on each side of which
faced the vari-coloured and many-shaped architecture of the little town.
It was chiefly of canvas. Now and then a structure of logs added an
appearance of solidity to the whole. The girl did not look too closely.
She knew that they passed places in which there were long rows of cots,
and that others were devoted to trade. She noticed signs which
advertised soft drinks and cigars--always "soft drinks," which
sometimes came into camp marked as "dynamite," "salt pork," and
"flour." She was conscious that every one stared at them as they passed.
She heard clearly the expressions of wonder and curiosity of two
women and a girl who were spreading out blankets in front of a
rooming-tent. She looked at the man at her side. She appreciated his
courtesy in not attempting to force an acquaintanceship. In her eyes
was a ripple of amusement.
"This is all strange and new to me--and not at all uninteresting," she
said. "I came expecting--everything. And I am finding it. Why do they
stare at me so? Am I a curiosity?"

"You are," he answered bluntly. "You are the most beautiful woman
they have ever seen."
His eyes encountered hers as he spoke. He had answered her question
fairly. There was nothing that was audacious in his manner or his look.
She had asked for information, and he had given it. In spite of herself
the girl's lips trembled. Her colour deepened. She smiled.
"Pardon me," she entreated. "I seldom feel like laughing, but I almost
do now. I have encountered so many curious people and have heard so
many curious things during the past twenty-four hours. You don't
believe in concealing your thoughts out here in the wilderness, do
you?"
"I haven't expressed my thoughts," he corrected. "I was telling you what
they think."
"Oh-h-h--I beg your pardon again!"
"Not at all," he answered lightly, and now his eyes were laughing
frankly into her own. "I don't mind informing you," he went on, "that I
am the biggest curiosity you will meet between this side of the
mountains and the sea. I am not accustomed to championing women. I
allow them to pursue their own course without personal interference on
my part. But--I suppose it will give you some satisfaction if I confess
it--I followed you into Bill's place because you were more than
ordinarily beautiful, and because I wanted to see fair play. I knew you
were making a mistake. I knew what would happen."
They had passed the end of the street, and entered a little green plain
that was soft as velvet underfoot. On the farther side of this, sheltered
among the trees, were two or three tents. The man led the way toward
these.
"Now, I suppose I've spoiled it all," he went on, a touch of irony in his
voice. "It was really quite heroic of me to follow you into Bill's place,
don't you think? You probably want to tell me so, but don't quite dare.
And I should play up to my part, shouldn't I? But I cannot--not

satisfactorily. I'm really a bit disgusted with myself for having taken as
much interest in you as I have. I write books for a living. My name is
John Aldous."
With a little cry of amazement, his companion stopped. Without
knowing it, her hand had gripped his arm.
"You are John Aldous--who wrote 'Fair Play,' and 'Women!'" she
gasped.
"Yes," he said, amusement in his face.
"I have read those books--and I have read your plays," she breathed, a
mysterious tremble in her voice. "You despise women!"
"Devoutly."
She drew a deep breath. Her hand dropped from his arm.
"This is very, very funny," she mused, gazing off to the sun-capped
peaks of the mountains. "You have flayed women alive. You have
made them want to mob you. And yet----"
"Millions of them read my books," he chuckled.
"Yes--all of them read your books," she replied, looking straight into
his face. "And I guess--in many ways--you have pointed out things that
are true."
It was his turn to show surprise.
"You believe that?"
"I do. More than that--I have always thought that I knew your
secret--the big, hidden thing under your work, the thing which you do
not reveal because you know the world would laugh at you. And
so--you despise me!"
"Not you."

"I am a woman."
He laughed. The tan in his cheeks burned a deeper red.
"We are wasting time," he warned her. "In Bill's place I heard you say
you were going to leave on the Tête Jaune train. I am going to take you
to a real dinner.