ing to get the doldrums," she said.

"That wouldn't be startling, Miss Wharton. Life in a line camp does
become monotonous. It is to be expected. It becomes tragic. Also, it has
a humorous side--viewed from a distance--chiefly afterward. In the
fall, men go into line camps fast friends. We always pair them that way.
Any other method would be fatal, for when the men come out in the spring
they invariably are deadly enemies. You can imagine what would happen if
we sent into a line cabin two men who did not think well of each other."

She shuddered and snuggled closer to him, letting her head fall to his
shoulder. A pulse of pity stirred him, and he permitted her head to stay
where she had laid it, while he gently smoothed her hair.

He would have done as much for any woman in her position; the emotion
that filled him was entirely that of pity. She was vain and
frivolous--employing every artifice, but she was a woman despite that,
and entitled, in the present circumstances, to what comfort and sympathy
he could give her.

However, to Della, the moment of victory was at hand. She _had_ been a
trifle worried just an instant before; and the white world outside _had_
seemed to threaten to rush in and crush out her life--the life she loved
so well--and she had been just a little afraid.

But she had not been too frightened to note Lawler's sympathy--the quick
glow in his eyes, and the atmosphere of tenderness that suddenly seemed
to envelop him. It was surrender, she thought, the breaking down of that
quiet, steady reserve in him which had filled her with resentment.

She caught his free hand and held it tightly, while she turned her head
so that she could look into his eyes.

"Lawler," she said then, in a low voice; "I lied to you."

"Lied?" He stiffened, dropped his hand from her head and looked straight
at her.

She laughed, lightly. "Yes; I lied, Lawler. The day we met in
Willets--you remember? Well, I loved you from that moment, Lawler. You
looked so big and fine and strong. I just couldn't help it. I did
overhear Gary Warden telling those two men to cut the fence; and I
didn't want them to set all those cattle adrift. But I didn't intend to
come here. I started out to find your ranch--the Circle L. I thought I
would find you there, and I knew I wouldn't be able to go back to the
Two Diamond right away--that you would have to keep me at your house
until the storm was over. But I got lost, and when I saw the light