"I should like to see it," Angela said, when he had pictured Lucky Star
City and ranch in a simple way, which was nevertheless curiously graphic.
He caught up her words eagerly. "Would you let me take you there?" he
begged. "Mrs. Gaylor'd invite you to stay at her house. You know I've told
you about that, and how----"
"Yes, I know." Angela could hardly have explained why, but somehow she
did not want to hear Mrs. Gaylor talked of just then. She was no longer
indifferent to the idea of seeing Nick's home, and the woman who had
helped him to make it, yet she was not sure that she wished to go there.
Certainly she did not wish to visit Mrs. Gaylor. But--she would like to
know whether the mistress of the Gaylor ranch was really so very
beautiful.
"What we must think about now, is how to get out of this church," she went
on, laughing faintly in the dark. "It seems as if we might have to stay
here all the rest of our lives."
"Are you hungry?" Nick inquired.
"A little."
In his enraged disgust at not being able to procure a meal, Nick would
gladly have killed and cooked the owl.
"Are _you?_" Angela asked.
"Am I--what?"
"Hungry."
"Good heavens, no!"
Time passed vaguely, as time does pass in the dark, when there are no
means of counting the minutes.
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