She flung herself at him. Robin caught her by the shoulders, held her at arm’s length, looked down at her sorrowfully.
“Get hold of yourself,” he commanded. “Don’t act crazy. You don’t want me. You’d ’a’ kept me when you had me, if you’d wanted. You can’t play with a man, discard him, and pick him up again, just as you take the notion. You know that. What’s the matter with you?”
She turned away from him with a stifled sob.
“Oh, I know, I know,” she wailed. “I’ve lost you. I am crazy. I’ve always been crazy. I ought to kill myself an’ I haven’t got the nerve. Oh Robin, Robin, I wish I was dead!”
She sank into that huddled posture on the step and cried in a way that made Robin ache. Then suddenly, while he wondered if it were wise or kind to say more, or if it would be better to ride away and leave her, she stopped weeping, looked up at him.
“I didn’t mean what I said,” she whispered. “I don’t know why I said it. I know you haven’t any use for me an’ I don’t blame you. I am about crazy, Robin. You better ride along. Mark Steele’s ragin’ around this country somewhere.”
“He was at the Block S yesterday an’ he didn’t seem particularly ragin’ when I was around,” Robin said quietly. “Has somethin’ happened?”
“He’s got me in trouble an’ just laughs at me,” she said wearily. “I don’t know what I’m goin’ to do. Dad’ll just about kill me when he finds out. Or he’ll go after Mark an’ get killed himself.”
“He can’t give you the worst of it that way,” Robin fairly sputtered. “He promised to marry you, didn’t he?”
“Yes, but that’s nothin’ to him,” she sighed. “Promises don’t mean nothin’ to Mark Steele. I took care of him last winter when he was shot, like he was a baby. He fixed it up to buy a half interest with dad this spring when he fell into that money. He’s backed out of everything. He rode in last night fairly foamin’ about somethin’. He had some things there he wanted. He got ’em an’ rode away an’ as good as told us both to go to hell. He was wild. I never saw him so ugly.”