, well,
I figured I'd go on and get the license and show that my intentions was
good and--and--sort of risk the whole thing on one throw! It always
seemed like there was something missing at the Quarter Circle KT," he
went on, his voice grown softer and trembling a bit, "and--and when you
came I--I--found out what it was--"

Ophelia sat silently with downcast eyes, her pulse racing, the license
unfolded on her lap, while she bit uncertainly at the tip of the finger
of her glove.

"I--I--know I ain't very good-looking or--or--anything," Old Heck
continued, "but I thought maybe you--you--liked me a little--enough
anyhow to get married--that is if you--. Oh-h--thunder, Ophelia!" he
exclaimed in despair, feeling that he was hopelessly floundering,
"I--I--love you! Please let's use that license! Let's use it right away
--to-day--and get it over with!" he urged as the widow still hesitated.

"But--I--I'm not suitably dressed--" she stammered.

"I think that dress you've got on is the prettiest goods I ever saw in
my life," he interrupted, looking adoringly at the clinging summer
fabric caressing Ophelia's shapely form, "I always did think it would be
awful appropriate for us to--to--get married in!" he finished
pleadingly.

"But--Carolyn June and--and--Parker--" Ophelia murmured.

At the mention of Parker, Old Heck started while a look of anguish came
into his eyes. So she loved Parker! That was why she was so backward, he
thought. Well, the Quarter Circle KT foreman was a little
better-looking, maybe, and some younger! He couldn't blame her.

His head dropped. For a moment Old Heck was silent, a dull, sickening
hurt gripping his heart. A deep sigh escaped from his lips. He reached
over and picked up the license.

"I--I--guess I made a mistake," he said numbly. "We'll just--just--tear
this thing up and forget about it!"

Ophelia looked demurely up at him, her mouth twitching. One small gloved
hand slipped over and rested on the strong brown fingers that held the
license. Roses flamed over the full round throat and spread their blush
to her cheeks. Her eyes were like pools of liquid blue:

"Don't tear it--it--up!" she whispered with a little laugh--a laugh that
sent the blood leaping, like fire, through Old Heck's veins, "it--it
would be a shame to waste it!"

For an instant Old Heck was dazed. He looked at her as if he could not
believe he had heard aright. Suddenly a wave of undiluted happiness
swept over him.