“Oh, I’m sorry,” returned she haltingly, somehow checked in her warm rush of thought. “Stanton?... Did he quit too?”
“Yep. He sure did.”
“What was the trouble?”
“Reckon because Flo made up to Kilbourne,” replied Charley, with a grin.
“Ah! I—I see,” murmured Carley. A blankness seemed to wave over her. It extended to the air without, to the sense of the golden sunset. It passed. What should she ask—what out of a thousand sudden flashing queries? “Are—are the Hutters back?”
“Sure. Been back several days. I reckoned Hoyle told you. Mebbe he didn’t know, though. For nobody’s been to town.”
“How is—how are they all?” faltered Carley. There was a strange wall here between her thought and her utterance.
“Everybody satisfied, I reckon,” replied Charley.
“Flo—how is she?” burst out Carley.
“Aw, Flo’s loony over her husband,” drawled Charley, his clear eyes on Carley’s.