e been across the border. My business took
me into Minnesota."

"Oh, I thought you had been to Winnipeg." She stooped and caressed the
great dog at her feet.

Iredale shook his head. A vivid flash of lightning shot across the
open window, and a crash of thunder followed it immediately. The storm
was breaking at last.

"I'll close the window." Iredale moved across the room to do so.
Prudence looked after him. When he returned he sat himself in Alice's
chair, having brought it nearer to the machine. Then followed a long
silence while the machine rattled down a seam. The man watched the
nimble fingers intently as they guided the material under the needle.
The bent head prevented him seeing more than the barest outline of the
girl's cheek, but he seemed content. Now that the moment had arrived
for him to speak, he was quite master of himself.

"Prudence," he began, at last, "I am giving up my ranch. I have been
making the necessary arrangements. I have done with money-making."

"Really." The girl looked up sharply, then down again at her work. She
had encountered the steady gaze of the man's earnest eyes. "Are you
going to--to leave us?" She was conscious of the lameness of her
question.

"I don't quite know. That depends largely upon circumstances. I am
certainly about to seek pleasant places, but I cannot tell yet where
those pleasant places will be found. Perhaps you will help me."

"How?" The seam swerved out into a great bow, and Prudence was forced
to go back over it.

"Easily enough, if you will."

The girl did not answer, but busied herself with the manipulation of
her machine. Her face had paled, and her heart was thumping in great
pulsations. Iredale went on. He had assumed his characteristic
composure. What fire burned beneath his calm exterior, it would have
needed the discerning eyes of Sarah Gurridge to detect, for, beyond
the occasional flashing of his quiet grey eyes, there was little or no
outward sign.

"I have known you for a good many years, child; years which have
helped to put a few grey hairs on my head, it is true, but still years
which have taught me something which I never dreamed of learning out
here on the prairie. They have taught me that such a thing as love
exists for every man on this earth, and that somewhere in this world
there is a woman who can inspire him with feelings which make the
pettinesses of his own solitary existence seem very small indeed. I
have learned that man w