A shadow came over Hagar’s face. “Rex Randerson has got a clean heart,” she said slowly. She stood looking at Ruth, disappointment plain in her eyes. The disappointment was quickly succeeded by suspicion; she caught her breath, and the hands that were under her apron gripped each other hard.
“I reckon you’ll take up with Masten again,” she said, trying to control her voice.
Ruth looked intently at her, but she did not notice the girl’s emotion through her interest in her words.
“What do you mean by ‘again’?”
“I heard that you’d broke your engagement.”
“Who told you that?” Ruth’s voice was sharp, for she thought Randerson perhaps had been talking.
Hagar blushed crimson and resorted to a lie. “My dad told me. He said he’d heard it.”
“Well, it isn’t true,” Ruth told her firmly; “I have never broken with Mr. Masten. And we are to be married soon.”
She turned, for she was slightly indignant at this evidence that the people in the country near her had been meddling with her affairs, and she did not see the ashen pallor that quickly spread over Hagar’s face. Had Ruth been looking she must have suspected the girl’s secret. But it took her some time to mount her pony, and then looking back she waved her hand at Hagar, who was smiling, though with pale and drawn face.
Hagar stood rigid on the porch until she could no longer see Ruth. Then she sank to the edge of the porch, gathered the dog Nig into her arms, and buried her face in his unkempt shoulder. Rocking back and forth in a paroxysm of impotent passion, she spoke to the dog: