"Far away—with love and the fields!"
They walked back to where John was holding the horses. She was oddly fluttered. For the first time since she had become engaged a man had somehow given her that special sensation, which women know, of confidence between them. She wished that John had not been so anxious to be off, and she did not repeat to him Darnell's talk, as she usually did every small item. All that she said was, after a time of reflection, "He is not a happy man."
"Who?"
"Mr. Darnell."
"From what I hear he is in a bad way. It is his own fault. He has plenty of ability,—a splendid chance."
She felt that this was an entirely inadequate judgment. What interested the man was the net result; what interested the woman was the human being in whom that result was being worked out. They talked a little longer about the fermenting tragedy of the household that they had just left, as the world talks, from a distance. But Isabelle made the silent reservation,—'she doesn't understand him—with another woman, it would be different.'…
Their road home lay through a district devastated by the mammoth sheds of some collieries. A smudged sign bore the legend:—
PLEASANT VALLEY COAL COMPANY
Lane pulled up his horse and looked carefully about the place. Then he suggested turning west to examine another coal property.
"I suppose that Freke man is awfully rich," Isabelle remarked, associating the name of the coal company with its president; "but he's so common,—I can't see how you can stand him, John!"