She shook her head with a cynical smile. “My machinery is like a dilapidated old engine that has been eaten up with rust, and battered by stones for twenty years. There isn’t a bit of me that isn’t in pieces.”
She closed her eyes, and slept for a half hour. He put both arms about her and his head beside hers.
“Dudley,” she said, finally.
“Well?”
“I had not thought of the baby for God knows how many years. It was no memory for me. But since the other day I have been haunted by that poor little grave in the big forest—”
“Would you like to have it brought down to Lone Mountain?”
She hesitated a moment, then shook her head.
“No,” she said. “In the vault with my mother and—and—him? Oh, no! no!”
“If I build a little vault for you and her will you sign a paper giving me—certain rights?”