"Yes--Gilbert Jones," Giddings replied. "Ever hear of him?"

For an instant Lucia could hardly see the valley that spread around them.
But it couldn't be possible! It was a common name; there could easily be
two Gilberts--fifty, for that matter. Was this the reason Morgan had asked
her to come? Had he discovered the man with whom she had once been in love,
and was this to be one of his subtle punishments? He had told her not to
bring her maid, and he had been mysterious, she remembered now, as to their
exact destination. But Sturgis had made it clear, on the contrary, that he
had accidentally learned of Jones's ranch. Maybe that was part of the
trick. But what good would come of such a scheme? She and Jones had
loved--and parted. Moreover, perhaps she was giving herself needless cause
for worry. This might not be the Gilbert Jones of her dreams. And what if
Morgan did know? There was nothing to conceal.

"How--long has he been here?" Lucia wanted to know.

"Oh, before the war we agreed to try our fortune together down here," "Red"
told her; and the little machine went whirring along. "That's the Hardy
ranch," he said, pointing to the left. "Nice folks." His eyes seemed to
cling to the low house, and Lucia did not realize it at the time, but he
slowed up the car. Presently a young girl came out on the stone terrace and
waved to him. She was like a prairie flower. "Red" Giddings became another
man in the twinkling of an eye. A flush mounted to his cheeks, and a smile
as broad as a fat man's belt all but encircled his countenance. He took one
hand from the wheel and waved until they were out of sight down a curve in
the road.

"Friend of yours?" said Morgan Pell, smiling.