Let Marion pretend, if she wanted to.

Let her rave about the lookout man's mouth and eyes and temper; Kate was armed against all future baitings.

She could go back now and be mistress of the situation.
So she went, and Jack listened to her retreating footsteps scrunching down the trail, and heaved a deep sigh of relief when the silence flowed in behind her and the mountain top was all his own.
Nevertheless he felt uneasy over the incident.

Kate, climbing alone to the station, trying the door, waiting around for a few minutes and then going back the way she had come, did not strike Jack as being a tourist come to view the scenery.

So far as he had been able to judge as he peeped out through a narrow rift in the ledge, she had paid very little attention to the scenery.