“Haven't you—something to do with it?”
“Maybe I have. I—I hope so.”
“Reckon you've seen how she's faded—since the trial?”
“No,” replied Shefford, swiftly. “But I've not seen her face in daylight since then.”
“Well, take my hunch,” said Joe, soberly. “She's begun to fade like the canyon lily when it's broken. And she's going to die unless—”
“Why man!” ejaculated Shefford. “Didn't you see—”
“Sure I see,” interrupted the Mormon. “I see a lot you don't. She's so white you can look through her. She's grown thin, all in a week. She doesn't eat. Oh, I know, because I've made it my business to find out. It's no news to the women. But they'd like to see her die. And she will die unless—”
“My God!” exclaimed Shefford, huskily. “I never noticed—I never thought.... Joe, hasn't she any friends?”
“Sure. You and Ruth—and me. Maybe Nas Ta Bega, too. He watches her a good deal.”
“We can do so little, when she needs so much.”