ything else. I don't suppose there has been an hour of
my life since I met you first that I haven't thought of you. I dreamed
of you--when I'm riding at night--I try to think----"

He stopped abruptly and caught up her left hand. "You've got a ring on
your finger--is that from the minister?"

Her eyes fled from his and she said, "Yes."

He dropped her hand. "I don't blame you any. I've made a failure of it."
His tone was that of a bankrupt at fifty. "I don't know enough to write
a letter--I'm only a rough, tough fool. I thought you'd be thinking of
me just the way I was thinking of you, and there was nothing to write
about because I wasn't getting ahead as I expected. So I kept waiting
till something turned up to encourage me. Nothing did, and now I'm paid
for it."

His voice had a quality which made her weep. She tried to think of some
words of comfort but could not. She was indeed too deeply concerned with
her own contending emotions. There was marvelous appeal in this
powerful, bronzed, undisciplined youth. His lack of tact and gallantry,
his disconcerting directness of look and speech shook her, troubled her,
and rendered her weak. She was but a year younger than he, and her life
had been almost as simple exteriorly, but at center she was of far finer
development. She had always been introspective, and she had grown
self-analytic. She knew that the touch of this young desperado's hand
had changed her relation toward the world. As he talked she listened
without formulating a reply.

When at last she began to speak she hesitated and her sentences were
broken. "I am very sorry--but you see I had not heard from you for a
long time--it would be impossible--for me to live on the plains so far
away--even if--even if I had not promised Mr. King----"

"Well, that ends it," he said harshly, and his voice brought tears
again. "I go back to my cow punching, the only business I know. As you
say, the cow country is no place for a girl like you. It's a mighty hard
place for women of any kind, and you ... Besides, you're a singer, you
can't afford to go with me. It's all a part of my luck. Things have gone
against me from the start."

He paused to get a secure hold on his voice. "Well, now, I'm going, but
I don't want you to forget me; don't pray for me, just _sing_ for me.
I'll hear you, and it'll help keep me out of mischief. Will you do
that?"

"Yes--if you--if it will help----"

Jack's voice, unusually loud, interrup