Bull had drawn nearer. He laid one hand gently on her shoulder. It moved down and took possession of the soft arm under her furs. Nancy shook her head. But there was no decision in the movement.
"Oh, I wish—" she began.
But she could get no further. Suddenly she buried her face in her hands, and broke into a passion of weeping.
Bull stood helplessly by. He gazed upon the shaking woman while great sobs racked her whole body. There was nothing he could do, nothing he dared do. He knew that. His impulse was to take her in his arms and protect her with his body against the things which gave her pain. But—somehow he felt that perhaps it was good for her to weep. Perhaps it would help her. So he waited.
Slowly the violence of the girl's grief subsided. And after a while she turned to him and gazed at him through her tears.
"I'm—I'm—"
But Bull shook his head.
"Come. Shall we go and eat?"
He still retained his hold upon her arm. And as he spoke he led her unresistingly away towards the camp.