He looked at her, surprised. "Didn't Win tell you? I said right away I couldn't accept. He knew that."
"Oh! I don't believe he did tell me. Perhaps you hadn't decided then." Privately she was determining to settle some day with Winthrop Beresford for leading her into this. He had purposely kept silent, she knew now, in the hope that she would talk to Tom Morse about it. "But I'm glad you've decided against going in."
"Why?"
"It's dangerous, and I don't think it has much future."
"Win likes it."
"Yes, Win does. He'll get a commission one of these days."
"He deserves one. I—I hope you'll both be very happy."
He was walking beside her. Quickly her glance flashed up at him. Was that the reason he had held himself so aloof from her?
"I think we shall, very likely, if you mean Win and I. He's always happy, isn't he? And I try to be. I'm sorry he's leaving this part of the country. Writing-on-Stone is a long way from here. He may never get back. I'll miss him a good deal. Of course you will too."
This was plain enough, but Tom could not accept it at face value. Perhaps she meant that she would miss him until Win got ready to send for her. An idea lodged firmly in the mind cannot be ejected at an instant's notice.