“Lost what?”
“Everything—except the gold-mine.”
“Everything except—I see. You mean that she—that you have asked her and she won’t?” He never knew the cost at which she held her voice so steady.
“More than that. It’s so new that it hurts yet, and it will continue to hurt for a long time, I suppose—but to-morrow I am going back to my hills and my valleys, back to the Midas and my work, and try to begin all over. For a time I’ve wandered in strange paths, seeking new gods, as it were, but the dazzle has died out of my eyes and I can see true again. She isn’t for me, although I shall always love her. I’m sorry I can’t forget easily, as some do. It’s hard to look ahead and take an interest in things. But what about you? Where shall you go?”
“I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter—now.” The dusk hid her white, set face and she spoke monotonously. “I am going to see the Bronco Kid. He sent for me. He’s ill.”
“He’s not a bad sort,” said Roy. “And I suppose he’ll make a new start, too.”
“Perhaps,” said she, gazing far out over the gloomy ocean. “It all depends.” After a moment, she added, “What a pity that we can’t all sponge off the slate and begin afresh and—forget.”
“It’s part of the game,” said he. “I don’t know why it’s so, but it is. I’ll see you sometimes, won’t I?”
“No, boy—I think not.”
“I believe I understand,” he murmured; “and perhaps it’s better so.” He took her two soft hands in his one good right and kissed them. “God bless you and keep you, dear, brave little Cherry.”