“To tell the truth, I don't know,” Charnock replied with naïve honesty. “Anyhow, I am thinking about you.”
“That is what I like, but there's no use in talking. Since I can make this business go I can run a farm, and see no other way. My plan's made and I'm going to put it over.”
Charnock was silent for some moments and then turned to her with a look in his face she had not seen.
“I don't want to farm, but if you can stand it for my sake, I must try. You will need some patience, Sadie—I may break out at times if the strain gets too hard. One can't help running away when one is something of a cur. But I'll come back, ashamed and sorry, and pitch in again. Since you mean to stand by me, perhaps I'll win out in the end.”
Bending down suddenly, he kissed her and then went to the door. She heard it shut, and sat still, but her eyes filled with tears. Bob had not promised much, but she thought he meant to keep his word now, and doubts that had troubled her melted away. She did not grudge the sacrifice she had made, for a ray of hope had begun to shine. It was, however, characteristic that after musing for a minute or two she took out some notepaper and began to write. Since the business must be sold, there was nothing to be gained by delay, and she gave a Winnipeg agent clear instructions. Then she went out and hid her annoyance when she saw Charnock sitting languidly on the hotel veranda.
“Has Wilkinson sent back our rig?” she asked.
“He has, but the team has done enough. Where are you going?”
“To look at Donaldson's farm. I want you to come along. Go across and ask Martin if he'll let you have his team.”
Charnock got up with a resigned shrug. “You are a hustler, Sadie. It's not many minutes since you decided about the thing.”
“I don't see what I'd get by waiting, and you may as well make up your mind that you're going to hustle, too. Now get busy and go for Martin's team.”