romise you that."

"You?" she jeered.

"Yours truly," he said, nodding his head. "I've done with larking now."
He began rolling up the sleeves of his sweater. For some obscure
reason--possibly because his deliberation seemed to connote
implacability--this simple action filled her with a terror that she had
not known before even in the midst of their physical struggle.

"Help! Help! Help!" she screamed.

She rushed across the room and threw open the door, sending her agonized
appeal out into the night.

"Help! Help! Help!"

She strained her ears for any sign of response.

"What's the good of that? There's no one within a mile of us. Listen."

It is doubtful if she heard his words. If she had, it would have
mattered but little. The answering silence which engulfed her like a
wave told her that she was lost. She bowed her head in her hands. Her
whole slender body was wrecked with hard, dry sobs. When she lifted her
head, he read in her eyes the anguish of the conquered. Nevertheless,
she made one last stand.

"If you so much as touch me, I'll have you up for cruelty. There are
laws to protect me."

"I don't care a curse for the laws," he laughed. "I know I'm going to
be master here. And if I tell you to do a thing, you've darned well got
to do it, because I can make you. Now stop this fooling. Pick up that
crockery and get the broom."

"I won't!"

He made one stride toward her.

"No, don't. Don't hurt me!" she shrieked.

"I guess there's only one law here," he said. "And that's the law of the
strongest. I don't know nothing about cities; perhaps men and women are
equal there. But on the prairie, a man's the master because he's bigger
and stronger than a woman."

"Frank!"

"Damn you, don't talk."

She did not move. Her eyes were on the ground. Pride and Fear were
having their last struggle, and Fear conquered. Without looking at her
husband she could feel that his patience was nearing an end. Very slowly
she stooped down and picked up the teapot and the broken cups and
saucers and laid them on the table. Blindly she tottered over to the
rocking-chair and burst into a passion of tears.

"And I thought I knew what it was to be unhappy!"

He watched her with a slight, but not unkindly, smile on his face.

"Come on, my girl," he said, without any trace of anger, "don't shirk
the rest of it."

Through her laced fingers, she looked at the mess of spilled tea on the
floor. Keeping her tear-marred face