ou--that
we--that I--oh! I've been very selfish and proud--"

Her fingers had followed his arm to the shoulder, and the car had idled
to a standstill. "I have fought as long as I can, Dave." She raised
her eyes full to his, and felt them glowing upon her in the dusk. "I
have fought as long as I can," she said, "and I--I always wanted to--to
lose, you know; and now--I surrender." . . .

Elden lost no time in facing the unpleasant task of an interview with
Mrs. Hardy. It was even less pleasant than he expected.

"Irene is of age," said Mrs. Hardy, bluntly. "If she will she will.
But I must tell you plainly that I will do all I can to dissuade her.
Ungrateful child!" she exclaimed, in an outburst of temper, "after all
these years to throw herself away in an infatuation for a cow
_puncher_."

The thorn of Mrs. Hardy's distress, revealed as it was in those last
contemptuous words, struck Dave as so ridiculous that he laughed
outright. It was the second occasion upon which his sense of humour
had suffered an inopportune reaction in her presence.

"Yes, laugh at me," she said, bitterly. "Laugh at her mother, an old
woman now, alone in the world--the mother that risked her life for the
child you are taking with a laugh--"

"I beg your pardon," said Dave. "I was not laughing at you, but at the
very great aversion in which you hold anyone who has at one time
followed the profession of a cowboy. As one who was born practically
with a lariat in his hand I claim the liberty of being amused at that
aversion. I've known many of the cow punching trade, and a good few
others, and while the boys are frequently rough they are generally
white--a great deal whiter than their critics--and with sounder respect
for a good woman than I have found in circles that consider themselves
superior. So if you ask me to apologize for the class from which I
come I have only a laugh for your answer. But when you say I have
taken your child thoughtlessly, there you do me an injustice. And when
you speak of being left alone in the world you do both Irene and me an
injustice. And when you call yourself an old woman you do us all an
injustice--"

"You may spare your compliments," said Mrs. Hardy, tartly. "I have no
relish for them. And as for your defence of cow _punchers_, I prefer
gentlemen. Why Irene should wish to throw herself away when there are
men like Mr. Conward--"

"Conward!" interrupted Dave.

"He has the manners of