CHAPTER VIII.
RIVAL CONSCIENCES The transcontinental train from the East rarely made its great climb up the Two Forks divide on time, and to-day it was more than usually late.
A solitary figure long since had begun to pace the station platform, looking anxiously up and down the track.
It was Sim Gage; and this was the first time he ever had come to meet a train at Two Forks.
Sim Gage, but not the same.

He now was in stiff, ill-fitting and exclaimingly new clothing.

A new dark hat oppressed his perspiring brow, new and pointed shoes agonized his feet, a new white collar and a tie tortured his neck.

He had been owner of these things no longer than overnight.

He did not feel acquainted with himself.
He was to meet a woman! Her picture was in his pocket, in his brain, in his blood.