And, of course, I'm literally drinking in atmosphere--to say nothing of local colour, which seems mostly to be men and revolvers." The man opposite wet his lips with his tongue in an effort to speak, but the girl was busy eating and apparently paid no attention.

Her calm indifference convinced him that her words were entirely innocent, and his audacity returned.
"Well," he ventured, "do you agree with this prospector friend ?" "The scenery, you mean ?" glancing up brightly.

"Why, it is wonderful, of course, and I am not at all sorry having made the journey, although it hardly compares with Tennessee Pass or Silver Plume.

Still, you know, it will be pleasant to tell Mr.Cavendish when I go back that I was here." He choked and his face seemed to whiten suddenly.
"Mr.Cavendish ?" he gasped.

"Of New York?
Not the one that was killed ?" It was her turn to stare across the table, her eyes wide with horror, which she simulated excellently.
"Killed! Has a man by that name been killed lately in New York?
It was Frederick Cavendish I referred to." Her pretence was admirable.
He was silent, realising lie had already said too much; the red had come back into his cheeks, but his hand shook as it rested clenched on the table.
"Tell me," she insisted, "has he been killed?
How do you know ?" Her earnestness, her perfect acting, convinced him.