“Did you see Mr. Simpson last night, Bill?” she asked.
“No.”
“Well, he went deer-shootin’ by starlight with some men from Bridgetown, and he was hurt in some way. I heard them come back here three hours ago, and they were talkin’ about it. They had a couple of extra horses with them. They took him away with them.”
“A couple of extra horses?” mused Bill. Aloud he asked:
“Is he comin’ back here any more, Mary Ann?”
“I don’t know,” she replied. “I hope not.”
“You hope not?” he said quickly. “Are you sure? They do say you and him are——”
“I can’t help what they say,” she said wearily. “I’m glad he’s gone, Bill.”
Paisley stood his rifle against a tree. His face was aglow with hope.
“Mary Ann,” he said gently, “you’ve known me a long time, and you know just why I ask this question. Has he been square with you?”