"I was such a fool," he replied bitterly. "I should have known that you were not what you pretended you were. You must believe me when I tell you that I loved you from that first night we were up here in the hills. I didn't know how great my love was, though, until I knew I had lost you."

"I thought, or tried to think, you should have known I was not a thief,"

said Pen, with a soft tone in her voice, "but Larry said that only showed what a good actress I am. I told Larry all about it this morning, and he said no self-respecting man would ask a thief to marry him, not if he knew she was a thief before he loved her."

"I didn't read your letter," he said, "until after I had seen the picture of 'The Thief' last night. So I was prepared for its contents. I read, and not entirely between the lines, that you did not care."

"I didn't think I did--so much--" she answered, "when I wrote that letter; but up there, Kurt, up in the clouds yesterday--something within me unlatched, and I knew that I loved you, and that my love would make you forgive me for deceiving you. You will?"

"I will. But you see there is a greater obstacle than that--or in the thought that you were a thief."

"You mean my being a movie actress. Are you so prejudiced against the profession?"

"The obstacle is that the clerk of the hotel told me he had read somewhere that Bobbie Burr received a stupendous salary."

"Well, don't you think she earns it?"

"You see, a poor foreman of a ranch would never have the hardihood to ask a rich girl to marry him; he'd a thousand times rather marry a poor thief."

"Is that the only obstacle?" she asked.

"It is, and it is unsurmountable."

He was silent, and in his deep-set eyes she read the resolve he had made.

"That is an obstacle that soon can be vanquished. I am a good spender, and I will soon make way with all I have. I am looking for a good investment.

Mr. Kingdon or Jo or some one told me Westcott's was for sale. You see, we might run it fifty-fifty. I could buy it and you run it."

"I can't, Pen," he said desperately.

She made no reply.

The car whipped round the curves. She was watching the long efficient hands gripping the wheel. Then she stole a glance at his grim, thrust-forward profile. She felt that something must be done and she was a believer in the power of action over words.

She scanned the side of the road keenly for a way, and when she recognized the memorable little clump of trees, she spoke in plaintive tone.

"Aren't we going to stop at all, Mr. Sheriff Man?"

Instinctively he stopped the car.

She climbed out and went toward the trees. As in a dream he mechanically followed her.

"Do you remember our camping place that night?" she asked.

"Do I remember? If you knew how I battled with my best and strongest feeling that night!"

"Kurt, you know in the library at Top Hill last night--no, night before last, you asked me something. I didn't answer. I will answer now. Kurt, I love you! Now will you ask me--the rest of it?"

"Penelope!"

"Oh! You do--care--Kurt. Your mother's name!"

THE END.