“Do y’u love me, Helen?”
“Why should I tell you, since you don’t love me enough to give up this quixotic madness?”
“Don’t y’u see, dear, I can’t give it up?”
“I see you won’t. You care more for your pride than for me.”
“No, it isn’t that. I’ve got to go. It isn’t that I want to leave y’u, God knows. But I’ve given my word, and I must keep it. Do y’u want me to be a quitter, and y’u so game yourself? Do y’u want it to go all over this cattle country that I gave my word and took it back because I lost my nerve?”
“The boy that takes a dare isn’t a hero, is he! There’s a higher courage that refuses to be drawn into such foolishness, that doesn’t give way to the jeers of the empty headed.”
“I don’t think that is a parallel case. I’m sorry, we can’t see this alike, but I’ve got to go ahead the way that seems to me right.”
“You’re going to leave me, then, to go with that man?”
“Yes, if that’s the way y’u have to put it.” He looked at her sorrowfully, and added gently: “I thought you would see it. I thought sure you would.”
But she could not bear that he should leave her so, and she cried out after him. “Oh, I see it. I know you must go; but I can’t bear it.” Her head buried itself in his coat. “It isn’t right—it isn’t a—a square deal that you should go away now, the very minute you belong to me.”