"We'll have to wait," was all that Mary Warren could think to say. But after a time she turned her face toward him once more.
"Do you know," said she, "I think you're a gentleman!"
"Oh, my Lord!" said Sim Gage, his eyes going every which way. "Oh, my good Lord!"
"Well, it's true. Look—you haven't said a word or done a thing—you haven't touched me—or laughed—or—or hinted—not once. That's being a gentleman, in a time like this. This—this is a very hard place for a woman."
"It ain't so easy fer a man! But I couldn't have done no other way, could I?"
She made no answer. "Are there many other women in this valley, Mr. Gage?" she asked after a time. "Who are they? What are they like?"
"Five, in twenty-two miles between my place and town, ma'am," he answered, "when they're home. The nearedest one to us is about couple miles, unless you cut through the fields."
"Who is she? What is she like?"
"That is Mis' Davidson, our school ma'am— She's the only woman I seen a'most all last summer, unlessen onct in a while a woman would come out with some fishing party in a automobile. Most of them crosses up above on the bridge and comes down the other side of the creek from us. Seems to me sometimes women has always been just acrosst the creek from me, ma'am. I don't know much about them. Now, Wid—Wid Gardner—he's the next rancher to me, this side—he sometimes has folks come there in the fishing season."
"Your log house is all painted and nice, isn't it?"