"It was awful; wasn't it?" Crosby said, stretching himself painfully.
"Are you not drenched to the skin, Mr. Higgins?" cried Mrs. Delancy anxiously. "How selfish of us not to have thought of you before!"
"Oh, that's all right. This gum coat kept me purty dry."
He and Crosby assisted her from the wagon, and, while the former gave his attention to the wet and shivering horses, the latter took her arm and walked up and down the dark shed with her.
"I think you are regretting the impulse that urged you into this folly," he was saying.
"If you persist in accusing me of faintheartedness, Mr. Crosby, I'll never speak to you again," she said. "I cast my lot with a desperado, as the deputy insinuated, and I am sure you have not heard me bewail my fate. Isn't it worth something to have one day and night of real adventure? My gown must be a sight, and I know my hair is just dreadful, but my heart is gayer and brighter to-night than it has been in years."
"And you don't regret anything that has happened?" he asked, pressing her arm ever so slightly.
"My only regret is that you heard what the deputy said about me. You don't believe I am like that, do you?" There was sweet womanly concern in her voice.
"I wish it were light enough to see your face," he answered, his lips close to her ear. "I know you are blushing, and you must be more beautiful—Oh, no, of course I don't think you are at all as he painted you," he concluded, suddenly checking himself and answering the plaintive question he had almost ignored.
"Thank you, kind sir," she said lightly, but he failed not to observe the tinge of confusion in the laugh that followed.