"I thought I saw him driving across the ridge. I was on my way to the store, but when I saw his old rack-a-bone team I turned off to see you. How are you?" he asked, tenderly, and his voice swept away all her reserve.
"Oh, Jim, I'm not well. You must take me away, right off. I can't stay here another day—not a day."
He looked at her keenly.
"Why? What's the matter?"
She evaded his eyes.
"It's so lonesome here—" Then she dropped all evasion: "You know why—Jim, take me away. I can't live without you now. I'm going to be sick."
He understood her very well. His eyes fell and his face knotted in sudden gravity. "I was afraid of that—that's why I came. Yes, you must get out of here at once."
She understood him. "Oh, Jim, you won't leave me now, will you?"
"No. I didn't say anything about leaving you." He put his arm around her. "I'm not that kind of a man. You and I were built for each other—I felt that on that first ride. I guess it's up to me to take you out of this." He broke off his emotional utterance and grew keen and alert.
"I've been planning to go, and I'm almost ready—in fact, I could leave now without much loss, but I didn't come prepared for anything so sudden. My office furniture don't amount to much, and this team is Bailey's"—he mused a moment. "Come!" he said, with sudden resolution, "it's go now—we'll never have a better chance."