"I am sorry."
"Why?"
"Because I should like it to be mine for you. I should like to link my golden West with the thought of you."
"And you won't now, because it was somebody else's name for me?"
Kemp, before he went away, had made her comfortable with cushions in a chair-like crotch of the old tree. The Major was at her feet. He meditated a moment. "I shall make it my name for you. What do I care what other men have called you."
"Do you know what you called me—once?" she was smiling down at him.
"No."
"A little lame duck. It was when I first tried to use my foot. And you laughed, and said that it—linked us—together. And now you are trying to link me with your West——"
"You know why, of course."