"And I picked it up! Tom, that morning when you were crawling back from Cathedral Tank, across the desert, I was at the round-up camp. I went there to tell you, to make you understand—"
"That's what hurts: that you had to ride thirty miles to tell me, to make me understand. Why, ma'am, I hadn't any right to have you do that for me. It was me who should have come crawlin' to you!"
She took his hand again.
"Look at me!"
"Yes, ma'am," striving to lighten his manner.
"Yes, Jane!" she insisted.
"Jane," very softly.
"You are very foolish, sticking to an abstract idea of how you should have conducted yourself. You wanted to die for me once; you want to put me off now because you think you wronged me.
"Don't you see what a wrong that would be! Don't you see that?"
She leaned forward, hands clasped at her chin, and tears swam upward into her eyes.