And it was only due to his dignity that he should now see Kitty at once.
This was easy enough, for in the naive simplicity of Boomville and the economic arrangements of her father, she occasionally waited upon the hotel table.

Half the town was always actively in love with her; the other half HAD BEEN, and was silent, cynical, but hopeless in defeat.
For Kitty was one of those singularly pretty girls occasionally met with in Southwestern frontier civilization whose distinct and original refinement of face and figure were so remarkable and original as to cast a doubt on the sagacity and prescience of one parent and the morality of the other, yet no doubt with equal injustice.

But the fact remained that she was slight, graceful, and self-contained, and moved beside her stumpy, commonplace father, and her faded, commonplace mother in the dining-room of the Boomville Hotel like some distinguished alien.

The three partners, by virtue, perhaps, of their college education and refined manners, had been exceptionally noticed by Kitty.

And for some occult reason--the more serious, perhaps, because it had no obvious or logical presumption to the world generally--Barker was particularly favored.
He quickened his pace, and as the flagstaff of the Boomville Hotel rose before him in the little hollow, he seriously debated whether he had not better go to the bank first, deposit his shares, and get a small advance on them to buy a new necktie or a "boiled shirt" in which to present himself to Miss Kitty; but, remembering that he had partly given his word to Demorest that he would keep his shares intact for the present, he abandoned this project, probably from the fact that his projected confidence with Kitty was already a violation of Demorest's injunctions of secrecy, and his conscience was sufficiently burdened with that breach of faith.
But when he reached the hotel, a strange trepidation overcame him.