“No, no. Go to Europe; go to see your mother.”
“I thought about that a good deal, a while ago. But I don't seem t' have no heart fur it now. I feel as if I'd be safer in th' gulch.”
“Safer?”
“The world looks pretty big. It's safe and close in th' gulch.”
At the station the major went to look after the trunks, and Roeder put Kate in her seat.
“I wanted t' give you something,” he said, seating himself beside her, “but I didn't dare.”
“Oh, my dear friend,” she cried, laying her little gloved hand on his red and knotted one, “don't go back into the shadow. Do not return to that terrible silence. Wait. Have patience. Fate has brought you wealth. It will bring you love.”
“I've somethin' to ask,” he said, paying no attention to her appeal. “You must answer it. If we 'a' met long ago, an' you hadn't a husband or—anythin'—do you think you'd've loved me then?”
She felt herself turning white.
“No,” she said softly. “I could never have loved you, my dear friend. We are not the same. Believe me, there is a woman somewhere who will love you; but I am not that woman—nor could I have ever been.”