Blanche replied to his words of greeting with a low murmur—"I feel very weak."
She seemed calmer, also, and her eyes had lost something of their tension of appeal.
Bailey looked at her closely, and his heart softened with pity. He waited upon her and tried by his cheerful smiles to comfort her, nevertheless.
They ate breakfast in silence, as if apprehending the struggle which was still to come.
At last Rivers rose with abrupt resolution.
"Well, now, I'll bring the team around, and we'll get away."
"Wait a minute, Jim," Bailey said. "I want to say something to you." There was a note of pleading in his voice. "Wait a little. I've been thinking this thing over. I don't want you to go away feeling hard toward me." His throat choked up and his eyes grew dim. "I don't want to be hard on you, Jim. It's a mighty big question, and I'm not one to be unjust, specially toward a woman. Of course, somebody's got to suffer, but it hadn't ought to be the woman—I've made up my mind on that. Seems like the woman always does get the worst of it, and I want you to think of her. What is to become of her?"
Blanche turned toward him with a wondrous look—a look which made him shiver with emotion. He looked down a moment, and his struggle to speak made him seem very boyish and gentle.
"I can't exactly justify this trade, Jim, but I guess it all depends on the mother. She ought to be happy anyway, whether you are or not; so if she thinks she'd better go with you, why, I ain't got a word to say."
Blanche gave a low cry, a cry such as no woman had ever uttered in his presence, and fell upon her knees before him.