She gathered the documents and placed them in the box, went upstairs, slowly packed her belongings, and called a cab.
Jean Baptiste came into the granary on the old claim, and looked out over the place. And as he did so, he regarded the spot where the sod house had once stood and wherein he had spent many happy days. As he thought of it, the past rose before him, and he lived through the sweetness again that a harvest had once brought him. That was years before, and in that moment he wished he could bring it back again. The Custom of the Country and its law had forbid, and he had paid the penalty. He wondered whether he would do the same again and sacrifice all that had been dear and risk the misery that had followed.
He shifted, and in so doing his back was toward the road. "Withal, it would have been awkward to have married a white woman," he muttered, and reached for the cold lunch he had brought for his meal. Bill and George were eating in the field where they worked.
"Baching is hell," he muttered aloud, and picked up a sandwich.
"How very bad you are, Jean," he heard, and almost strained his neck in turning so quickly.
"Agnes!"
"Well, why not?"
"But—but—oh, tell me," and then he became silent and looked away, raising the sandwich to his mouth mechanically.
"Don't eat the cold lunch, Jean. I have brought some that is warm," so saying she uncovered the basket she carried, and he regarded it eagerly.