raid,"
he said abruptly.

"What would?"

"I was thinking of what you said about the High Valley."

"Oh!"

"You've only seen it in summer, you know. It's quite a different place in
the winter. I don't believe a--person--could live on the year round and be
contented."

"It would depend upon the person, of course."

"If it were a lady,--yourself, for instance,--could it be made anyway
tolerable, do you think? Of course, one might get away now and then--"

"I don't know. It's not easy to tell beforehand how people are going to
feel; but I can't imagine the High Valley ever seeming like a prison,"
replied Clover, vexed to find herself blushing, and yet unable to help it,
Geoff's manner had such an odd intensity in it.

"If I were sure that you could realize what it would be--" he began
impetuously; then quieting himself, "but you don't. How could you? Ranch
life is well enough in summer for a short time by way of a frolic; but in
winter and spring with the Upper Canyon full of snow, and the road down
muddy and slippery, and the storms and short days, and the sense of being
shut in and lonely, it would be a dismal place for a lady. Nobody has a
right to expect a woman to undergo such a life."

Clover absorbed herself in her sewing, she did not speak; but still that
deep uncomfortable blush burned on her cheeks.

"What do you think?" persisted Geoff. "Wouldn't it be inexcusable
selfishness in a man to ask such a thing?"

"I think;" said Clover, shyly and softly, "that a man has a right to ask
for whatever he wants, and--" she paused.

"And--what?" urged Geoff, bending forward.

"Well, a woman has always the right to say no, if she doesn't want to say
yes."

"You tempt me awfully," cried Geoff, starting up. "When I think what this
place is going to seem like after you've gone, and what the ranch will be
with all the heart taken from it, and the loneliness made twice as lonely
by comparison, I grow desperate, and feel as if I could not let you go
without at least risking the question. But Clover,--let me call you so
this once,--no woman could consent to such a life unless she cared very
much for a man. Could you ever love me well enough for that, do you
think?"

"It seems to me a very unfair sort of question to put," said Clover, with
a mischievous glint in her usually soft eyes. "Suppose I said I could, and
then you turned round and remarked that you were ever so sorry that you
couldn't reciprocate my feelin