"I actually saw her."
"Did you talk that way to her?"
"Oh, no; we did not speak."
"There, Jim, now I like you just a little bit; sort of sisterly love, you know. That is all, Jim—do you hear?"
"No," he said, drawing her to him. "I did not catch that last sentence. Come a little nearer, Winnie."
"Never! Never! James Hall," she said, withdrawing with a flushed face. "You are holding a secret from me and unless you confide all, Winnie Richardson will die an old maid."
"Thank God," he replied, with irony, "That cuts off John Bragg."
"John is already cut off. I love the tracks you make in the dust more than I do him, but no girl should allow herself to follow a love trail into a snare. You may be all right. I think you are, but do not advance another shade until I know all."
Jim dried her falling tears as caressingly as he dared, but the mystery still remained.
Winnie turned and gazed to the far away hills, but she did not see them, for her soul was silently summoning courage for the trying ordeal. Jim could but see in her the model of pure virtue and loveliness, as she turned to him, saying: