"And in the meantime you were asking Eve to marry you. Was it her money that you wanted?"
"Her money! Do you think I am a fortune-hunter?"
"I am asking you, Jimmie?"
"For Heaven's sake, stop asking questions. You know how a pretty woman goes to my head. And she's the kind that flits away to make you follow. I can't fancy your doing that sort of a thing, Anne."
"No," quietly, "women like myself, Jimmie, go on expecting that things will come to them—and when they don't come, we keep on—expecting. But somehow we never seem to be able to reach out our hands to take—what we might have."
He began to feel better. This was the wistful Anne of the old days.
"There has never been any one like you, Anne. It seems good to be here. Women like Eve madden a man, but your kind are so—comfortable."
Always the old Jimmie! Wanting his ease! After he had left her she sat looking out over the gate beyond the fields to the gold of the west.
When at last she went up to the house Uncle Rod had had his nap and was in his big chair on the front porch.
"Jimmie and I are friends again," she told him.