Sonora gazed at her unbelievingly.
“Do what?” he said.
“What did she say?” questioned Trinidad.
Now Sonora went over to her, and asked:
“What d’you say? Why, what’s the matter?”
Slowly the Girl raised her head and looked at him through half-closed lids, the tears that still clung to them, blinding her almost. Plainly audible in the silence of the room the seconds ticked away on the clock, and still she did not speak; at last she murmured:
“Oh, it’s nothin’, nothin’, only I jest remembered I’ve promised to leave Cloudy soon an’, p’r’aps, we might never be together again—you an’ me an’ The Polka. Oh, it took me jest like that when I seen your dear, ol’ faces, your dear, plucky, ol’ faces an’ realised that—” She could not go on, and buried her face in her hands, her glistening blonde head shaking with her sobs.
It was thus that the Sheriff, entering a moment later, found her. Without a word he resumed his seat in front of the fire.
Sonora continued to stare blankly at her. He was too dazed to speak, much less to think. He broke silence slowly.
“What—you leavin’ us?”