at
Vavrika's. "But why do you fight for that so? What good is the power
to enjoy, if you never enjoy? Your hands are cold again; what are you
afraid of all the time? Ah, you're afraid of losing it; that's what's
the matter with you! And you will, Clara Vavrika, you will! When I used
to know you--listen; you've caught a wild bird in your hand, haven't
you, and felt its heart beat so hard that you were afraid it would
shatter its little body to pieces? Well, you used to be just like that,
a slender, eager thing with a wild delight inside you. That is how I
remembered you. And I come back and find you--a bitter woman. This is
a perfect ferret fight here; you live by biting and being bitten. Can't
you remember what life used to be? Can't you remember that old delight?
I've never forgotten it, or known its like, on land or sea."

He drew the horse under the shadow of the straw stack. Clara felt him
take her foot out of the stirrup, and she slid softly down into his
arms. He kissed her slowly. He was a deliberate man, but his nerves were
steel when he wanted anything. Something flashed out from him like a
knife out of a sheath. Clara felt everything slipping away from her; she
was flooded by the summer night. He thrust his hand into his pocket,
and then held it out at arm's length. "Look," he said. The shadow of the
straw stack fell sharp across his wrist, and in the palm of his hand she
saw a silver dollar shining. "That's my pile," he muttered; "will you go
with me?"

Clara nodded, and dropped her forehead on his shoulder.

Nils took a deep breath. "Will you go with me tonight?"

"Where?" she whispered softly.

"To town, to catch the midnight flyer."

Clara lifted her head and pulled herself together. "Are you crazy, Nils?
We couldn't go away like that."

"That's the only way we ever will go. You can't sit on the bank and
think about it. You have to plunge. That's the way I've always done,
and it's the right way for people like you and me. There's nothing so
dangerous as sitting still. You've only got one life, one youth, and
you can let it slip through your fingers if you want to; nothing easier.
Most people do that. You'd be better off tramping the roads with me than
you are here." Nils held back her head and looked into her eyes. "But
I'm not that kind of a tramp, Clara. You won't have to take in sewing.
I'm with a Norwegian shipping line; came over on business with the New
York offices, but now I'm going straigh