Sanderson ate; there was no way out of it, though he felt awkward and
uncomfortable. He kept wondering what she would say to him if she knew
the truth. It seemed to him that had the girl looked closely at him
she might have seen the guilt in his eyes.
But apparently she was not thinking of doubting him--it was that
knowledge which made Sanderson realize how contemptible was the part he
was playing. She had accepted him on trust, without question, with the
implicit and matter-of-fact faith of a child.
He listened in silence while she told him many things about the
Bransfords--incidents that had occurred during his supposed absence,
intimate little happenings that he had no right to hear. And he sat,
silently eating, unable to interrupt, feeling more guilty and
despicable all the time.
But he broke in after a time, gruffly:
"What's the trouble between Dale and the Nylands?"
Instantly she stiffened. "I forgot to tell you about that. Ben Nyland
is a nester. He has a quarter-section of land on the northwestern edge
of the basin.
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