"Bill, I wish you would get Baco. I have sent for Tabywana, and want Baco to interpret for me."
Bill's heavy boots creaked down the corral.
"I hope you've rested well, Diana," Jim said.
"I haven't been to bed, Jim. I've been trying to think it all out." She rose and came to him. "Would she be quite impossible at Maudsley Towers?"
Jim knew she wanted to take up their conversation where it had stopped last night. They had discussed the subject already, and he felt the futility of going over the same arguments. It only tormented him, so he answered, "Quite."
Diana persisted. "Couldn't she be sent to school for a few years?"
"It's too late. That might have been done when she was a child, but now she's a woman."
"And a mother." Then hurriedly, as though fearful that she would not have the courage to express to Jim all her concern for Nat-u-ritch, she said, "Jim, I wonder if we are treating her quite fairly?"
"I hope so." And in Jim's voice there was a prayer.
During the night many thoughts had haunted Diana. The soft little arms that had clung to her the night before troubled her. What would their loss mean to this child-woman of the woods? She decided to make one more appeal to Jim and frankly lay before him the conflicting emotions that had torn her since her arrival at the ranch.