And then she remarked that she must be returning home, and said she would be glad if he would accompany her part way as there was a Mexican’s house half way to town where a particularly vicious dog always rushed out. The dog rushed out exactly as she had predicted, barking savagely, so that she slipped her arm into the engineer’s and held fast until they were past.
“He does that only after dark; I hadn’t expected to walk so far and it was still light when I set out,” said she.
The touch of her fingers on his sleeve, the light swing of her form at his side, the subtle fragrance that emanated from her hair and face, this intimate nearness 95 on the dark road, the heavy scent of flowers in the bordering fields,––all sent the blood thumping from his heart. If he––if he were in Ed Sorenson’s place, what love he could pour out!
Ed Sorenson, the double-faced wretch who while engaged to her had attempted to entice away for his own vile gratification the simple, trustful girl on Terry Creek, he was to marry this sweet and charming companion. What diabolical tragedies life could mix!
“See, the moon is rising,” she said.
Over the edge of the mesa the yellow globe was bulging, rayless for the moment, round and full.
“We’re almost at the edge of town, and I’ll stop here,” he replied. “As I said, I’d not bring down upon your head a single unpleasant word.”
“My head’s not so tender,” she responded quickly. “But I think you’re right––for the present.” A tight little smile followed the words. “We’ll see.”
“That’s best.”
“But I propose to stand by you. I told you that night I couldn’t remain indifferent when I saw an innocent man persecuted.”