The girl found herself trembling. She leaned back in a haze of dizziness against an arm which circled her shoulder and waist. Memory leaped across the years to that other time when she had rested in his arms, his heart beating against hers. In that moment of deep understanding of herself, Beatrice knew the truth beyond any doubt. A new heaven and a new earth were waiting for her, but she could not enter them. For she herself had closed the gate and locked it fast.
His low voice soothed and comforted her.
"I'm all right," she told him.
Clay withdrew his arm. "I'd report that fellow if I had his number," he said. "You stick to yore saddle fine. You're one straight-up rider."
"I'll ask Mr. Bromfield to give you fifty dollars' again," she laughed nervously.
That word again stuck in his consciousness.
"You've known me all along," he charged.
"Of course I've known you—knew you when you stood on the steps after you had tied the janitor."
"I knew you, too."
"Why didn't you say so?"