It was beyond his comprehension; yet he could get a glimmering of the idea.
“And nobody ever comes here,” said Mrs. Kirk bitterly. “They hate a sheep-herder so much that nobody cares what becomes of us.”
“Ain’t it ——?” agreed Roper. “Now, ain’t it, though?”
The little cabin shook in the heavy wind, and the rain beat in through the walls and the patched window-panes.
“Stormin’ outside,” observed Roper vacantly, and grinned at his own wit as he added, “and some of it’s comin’ in out of the wet.”
Suddenly he turned to Mrs. Kirk.
“You ain’t scared of me, are yuh?”
“No, I am not afraid of you. Why should I be?”
Roper did not say, but studied the face of the sick man for a while before he looked up at Mrs. Kirk.
“Yuh say yuh love him—more ’n—anythin’—even if he is a sheep-herder?”