me ask you a
question, one laborer of another. Do you like me?"

"Very much," she answered, looking at him steadily.

"I thank the Lord for that much. We might help each other to--"

"No, our battles are apart."

"Oh, I didn't mean that. I mean we can help each other spiritually.
Don't you think so?"

"We can all help one another spiritually," she said. "May I go now?" she
asked, smiling.

"I wish I could keep you from going. Wait. I can't understand that you
have labored in a field. You are the most graceful woman I ever
saw--the most perfect lady couldn't discount you. You've got good
blood. I believe in blood."

"I am of a good family," she said. "My father was once a man of some
importance. But the world turned against him. Blood is all that saved
me."

"I've got one more word to say, now that we are better acquainted. I
jumped on a horse once and galloped away from you--out at the little
town on the prairie. You don't remember me, but I do you."

"Galloped away from me!" she said in surprise. "Why did you do that?"

"Because I didn't want to get tangled up. Did you ever see a bigger
fool? And when I saw you out here I started off again, but I stopped and
said, 'I'll be damned if I do.' Once is enough. May I tell you more?"

"No," she said, stepping back. "I have heard enough. And what you tell
me may not be true--about galloping away. I don't mean to offend you.
But I have been taught to believe--"

"That all men are liars," he suggested. She nodded. "They taught you
about right," he went on. "Yes, they did. But sometimes the biggest liar
may tell the truest truth. They took you out of the field and taught you
politeness. I went from a college out into the wilds and there I forgot
learning and learned deviltry. Do you know what they used to call me?
Hell-in-the-Mud. That was my nickname. Hell-in-the-Mud, think of it! And
what saved me, if I am saved? An old woman living on a hillside in
Connecticut--my mother--prayed for me and died. It's a fact. I don't
know whether there's a God or not, that is, for the average run of us,
but there's one for her. Prayed for Hell-in-the-Mud, and her prayer was
printed in the village paper, and I got hold of it. Then I said I would
pay him--a man. But go on, I'm telling you too much."

She turned away without saying another word and almost ran along the
road. He stood watching her, hoping that she would look back at him, but
she did not. He went to the house. He sn