"Then—then, Jed, I'm all right. I can get along alone. Would you mind riding over and—asking her if she'd come—
"You see, Jed, I know now. I didn't before—I'm sure it's worth the candle—and there'll be no more darkness; no lasting night for her if—"
Jed walked slowly out into the other room and picked up his spurs. VB heard him strap them on, heard his boots stamp across the floor and stop.
"I'd go, VB, but it ain't necessary."
The boy raised his head, and to his ears came the bellow of a high-powered motor, the sound growing more distinct with each passing second.
"Lord, how that woman's drivin'!" Jed cried. "Lordy!" And he ran from the house.
The bellow of the motor rose to a sound like batteries of Gatlings in action; then came the wail of brakes.
With a pulsing thrill VB heard her voice upraised—with such a thrill that he did not catch the dread in her tone as she questioned Jed.
She came to him swiftly, eyes dimmed with tears, without words, and knelt by his bunk, hands clasped about his head. For many minutes they were so, VB gripping her fine, firm forearms. Then she raised her face high.
"And you wouldn't let me help?" she asked querulously.