"James McNamra," she repeated as if puzzled. "I never heard the name."
"It is my name. You will get used to it."
Ann was silent. She was making an effort to choke back great lumps that kept rising in her throat. Then the tears came and ran over the rims of her dark, blue eyes.
"How funny women are," McNeil said. "There's nothing to cry about, and I want to see you laughing the last time."
"I want to tell Mother and Father," she sobbed.
"You said you wouldn't. Are you going to keep your promise?"
"Yes," she answered.
"Then kiss me good-night. To-morrow I will ride past here on my way to Springfield. But there'll be no kissing then. The town folks will have enough to talk about as it is."
After McNeil had left town Ann began watching the post-office, and the postmaster rendered her careful help in the matter.