"Our minds didn't meet?" said Anne Oglesby. "Our minds? Did not our hearts meet—don't they meet now—and isn't that what it all means between a man and a woman?"
He stood, trembling, apart from her in the twilight.
"Don't!" he whispered. "I love you! I will love you all my life! You must go away. Oh, go now, go quickly!"
A merciful footfall sounded on the stone floor of the outer hall. The door opened, letting in a shaft of light with it. Cowles stood hesitating, looking at the two young people, still separated, standing wretchedly.
"I hate to say anything," said the sheriff, "but I reckon——"
"She must go," said Don Lane. "Take her away. Good-by—Anne! Anne! Oh, good-by!"
"Won't you kiss me, Don?" said Anne Oglesby—"when I love you so much?"
There were four tears, two great, sudden drops from each eye, that sprang now on Dan Cowles' wrinkled, sunburned cheeks.
But Don Lane had cast himself down once more on the pallet and was trying with all his power to be silent until after she had gone.
"In some ways," said Dan Cowles to his wife later that night, "he's got me guessing, that young fellow. He don't act like no murderer to me. But since she left, and since all this here happened, he's wild—Lord! he's wild!"