“Hello! I sure was worried,” was his greeting, as his gloved hand went out to her. “Did you run into that sandstorm?”
“It ran into me, Glenn, and buried me,” she laughed.
His fine eyes lingered on her face with glad and warm glance, and the keen, apprehensive penetration of a lover.
“Well, under all that dust you look scared,” he said.
“Scared! I was worse than that. When I first ran into the flying dirt I was only afraid I'd lose my way—and my complexion. But when the worst of the storm hit me—then I feared I'd lose my breath.”
“Did you face that sand and ride through it all?” he queried.
“No, not all. But enough. I went through the worst of it before I reached the cabin,” she replied.
“Wasn't it great?”
“Yes—great bother and annoyance,” she said, laconically.
Whereupon he reache
