"That may be YOUR idea of an Eastern man,"
he said bluntly, "but I kin tell ye that Californy ain't run on those
lines. No, sir." Nevertheless, his curiosity got the better of his ill
humor, and as the coach at last pulled up at the cross-road for Demorest
to descend he smiled affably at his departing companion.
"You allowed just now that you'd bin five years away. Whar mout ye have
bin?"
"In Europe," said Demorest pleasantly.
"I reckoned ez much," returned his interrogator, smiling significantly
at the other passengers. "But in what place?"
"Oh, many," said Demorest, smiling also.
"But what place war ye last livin' at?"
"Well," said Demorest, descending the steps, but lingering for a moment
with his hand on the door of the coach, "oddly enough, now you remind me
of it--at Hymettus!"
He closed the door, and the coach rolled on. The passenger reddened,
glanced indignantly after the departing figure of Demorest and
suspiciously at the others. The lady was looking from the window with a
faint smile on her face.
"He might hev given me a civil answer," muttered the passenger, and
resumed his novel.
When the coach drew up before Carter's Hotel the lady got down, and the
curiosity of her susceptible companions was gratified to the extent of
learning from the register that her name was Horncastle.
She was shown to a private sitting-room, which chanced to be the one
which had belonged to Mrs.
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