Again silence fell upon them both.
"Violet," it was the first time he had ever used that name.
Violet Easton turned in her saddle and looked straight at him, trying to read something in those dreamy eyes. He met her gaze quietly.
"Why do you call me Violet?"
"Because—because—" He drew in his breath sharply, and hesitated.
"Because—" and she looked inquiringly in his face.
"Don't ask me; please don't ask me. I believe I am mad."
Again she let her eyes rest upon him with the same earnest look of inquiry.
He turned away, and gazed absently into the trees and underbrush.
In a few minutes she again spoke. "Is this all you have to say, especially—especially"—and she paused a moment as if searching for a word—"if this is the end?"