"Bluey?"
"Yes, Bluey."
"Bad luck for Bluey. He was very old."
"I reckon I shall miss him."
"Did you bury him?"
"I couldn't find the shovel. I chucked him in the trees over there. Dad can fix him to-morrow."
"Is that what you have been thinking of all to-night?"
She ignored him again. The light from the doorway showed every line of her perfect profile, and by putting out a hand he could have touched the hair lying about her brows. Though he looked upon her beauty every night, he never found it grow less wonderful; but now he discovered with a curious sense of shame that he contemplated it with the calm born of dying passion. He would never see again so rare a work of art as this casket, but alackaday! he had opened the lid, and the delicate thing was empty.
"Jim, I was glad when you came along. It made me feel queer to leave the old dog stretched out over there. Do you reckon it true folk sometimes feel in their bones what is to happen?"
"What have you got in your head, child?"