"No, no; I'm going back to the stable," he said, fiercely. "I will not stay here any longer—not a day longer!"
He saw her start, and then she put down the blanket and stood up. "I do not understand you at all, sometimes" she faltered, "not at all."
"But I understand you, God knows," he returned, bitterly. "Harriet, little, suffering, wronged woman, I know something about you. I know what has been worrying you so much since I came here."
She started and an awful look crept into her face.
"Oh, Mr. Westerfelt, do you?"
"Yes, I know it—that's enough now; let's agree never again to speak of it. I don't want to talk about it, and I reckon you don't. Anyway, it can't be helped."
"No, it can't be helped." Her lips began to twitch and quiver, and her eyes went down.
"I understand it all now," she added. "And I don't blame you. I told mother yesterday that I thought you might suspect—"
"Your mother knows then?"
"Yes, of course," raising her eyes in surprise.