“Desert man, I am lonesome,” she said. “My grandfather has gone again. He is chasing some new will-o’-the-wisp. Gold and mines, cattle and land—and now it’s water. He has an ear for every man.”
“Lonesome? You! What do you know of loneliness?” asked Adam.
“There’s a loneliness of soul.”
“Ah! but you are young. Go help Genie plan her home.”
“Genie and Gene! Two people with but one voice! They cannot hear or see anyone but themselves. It’s a pity to invade their paradise. I will not.... And, oh, how beautiful the world must be to them!”
“Ruth, is it not so to you?”
“Beautiful lands and greens and waters!” she exclaimed, in restless discontent. “But I cannot live on scenery. There is joy here, but none for me.... I lost my mother and I can’t forget. She had to leave me and go with him—my father. My father who loved me as a child and hated me as a girl. Oh, it’s all a mystery! She went with him to the desert. Gold mad—she said he was. She had her debt to pay. And I could not be taken to Death Valley.”
“You have never heard from her since the parting?”
“Never.... And I am a woman now. Some day I will go to Death Valley.”
“Why?” he asked.