of himself, there was only one course
open to her. He leaned upon the table, gazing at her, and as he studied
her face his indignation melted, and doubts crept into his mind.

She looked weary, and grave, almost haggard, and it was a fresh,
light-hearted girl with whom he had fallen in love in England. The mark
of the last two years of struggle was plain on her. He tried to realize
what he had looked for when he had asked her to marry him, and could not
get a clear conception of his vision. In the back of his mind was a
half-formulated idea that he had dreamed of a cheerful companion,
somebody to amuse him. She scarcely seemed likely to be entertaining
now.

Gregory was not a man who could face a crisis collectedly, and his
thoughts became confused until one idea emerged from them. He had
pledged himself to her, and the fact laid a certain obligation upon him.
It was his part to overrule any fancies she might be disposed to indulge
in.

"Well," he said stoutly, "I'm not going to admit anything of that kind.
The journey has been too much for you. You haven't got over it yet." He
lowered his voice, and his face softened. "Aggy, dear, I've waited four
years for you."

His words stirred her, for they were certainly true, and his gentleness
had also its effect. The situation was becoming more and more difficult,
since it seemed impossible to make him understand that he would in all
probability speedily tire of her. To make it clear that she could never
be satisfied with him was a thing from which she shrank.

"How have you passed those four years?" she asked, to gain time.

For a moment his conscience smote him. He remembered the trips to
Winnipeg, and the dances to which he had escorted Sally Creighton. It
was, however, evident that Agatha could have heard nothing of Sally.

"I spent them in hard work. I wanted to make the place comfortable for
you," he answered. "It is true"--and he added this with a twinge of
uneasiness, as he remembered that his neighbors had done much more with
less incentive--"that it's still very far from what I would like, but
things have been against me."

The speech had a far stronger effect than he could have expected, for
Agatha remembered Wyllard's description of what the prairie farmer had
to face. Those four years of determined effort and patient endurance, as
she pictured them, counted heavily against her in the man's favor. It
flashed upon her that, after all, there might have been