"Is it you, Big Bear?" she said.
And Merefleet's voice answered her.
"Yes," it said. "I have come for you in earnest this time. You won't send me away again?"
Mab lifted her face with a glad smile.
"I guess there's no need," she said. "My dear, I'll come now."
And they went away together in the sunlight.
"And now I guess I'll tell you the story of the first Mrs. Ralph Warrender," said Mab, some time later. "I won't say anything about him, because he's dead, and if you can't speak well of the dead,—well it's better not to speak at all. But she was miserable with him. And after her baby died—it just wasn't endurable. Then came that railway accident, and she was in it. There were a lot of folks killed, burnt to death most of them. But she escaped, and then the thought came to her just to lie low for a bit and let him think she was dead.
"Oh, it was a real wicked thing to do. But she was nearly demented with trouble. And she did it. She managed to get away, too, in spite of her lovely face. An old negro woman helped her. And she came to England and went to a cousin of hers who had been good to her, whom she knew she could trust—just a plain, square-jawed Englishman, Big Bear, like you in some respects—not smart, oh no—only strong as iron. And he kept her secret, though he didn't like it a bit. And he gave her some money of hers that he had inherited, to live on. Which was funny, wasn't it?"
Mab paused to laugh.