She stood among the sunflowers, looking down at him. "Did you see the cowboy preacher that came West?" she asked. "Would he not have had a wild steer if he had roped your soul?"
"Give me your hand—both."
She gave him her hands, and leaped across the ditch. "I wish there were a thousand," he said, climbing out. "But you haven't answered me. When am I to see you again?"
"I am coming again with Mrs. Goodwin next summer."
"That'll be like a boy's Christmas—ten years in coming. Can't I come to see you in town?"
"I shall not be in the town. I am going into the country to teach."
"Then I can come into the country."
"No. With your wild ways you would make me feel ashamed."
"You are right—I've got sense enough to see it. But is there to be no better understanding between us?"
"Didn't you say that all—something could not keep us apart? Is not that understanding enough?" They had halted again, and she had given him her eyes.