to make any difference,"
he said. "I knew you before you--before you knew anything, and now it
doesn't sound right to hear you call me anything but Jim. It is true
that the last time I saw you--seems a long time, but it wasn't more than
a week ago--you said that you wouldn't marry me, and really the time
seems so long that I didn't know but you might have changed your mind."

"No, not yet," she replied.

"But you might."

"No, I couldn't."

"Is it as bad as that?"

"It's worse; it would be impossible for me to change."

"I don't suppose you know why?"

"Yes, I do. I am going to be married."

"What!" He stopped, expecting her to obey his own prompting and halt
also, but she walked on. With long strides he overtook her, passed her,
stood in front of her. She stepped aside and passed on. But again he
overtook her, but this time he did not seek to detain her.

"I can't believe it," he said, stripping the leaves from the thorn
bushes and briars that came within touch of his swinging hand. "I don't
believe that you would marry a man unless you loved him and
who--who----"

"Somebody," she said.

"Please don't tantalize me in this way. Tell me all about it."

"You know Mr. Pennington----"

"Who, that poor fellow!" he cried. "You surely don't think of marrying
him. Louise, don't joke with me. Why, he can't live more than three
months."

Now she halted and there was anger in her eyes as she looked at him, and
resentful rebuke was in her voice when she spoke. "And you, too, fix the
length of time he is to live. Why do you all agree to give him three
months? Is that all the time you are willing to allow him?"

He stepped back from her and stood fumbling with his great hands. "I
didn't know that any one else had given him three months," he replied.
"I based my estimate merely on my recollection of how he looked the last
time I saw him. I am willing to allow him all the time he wants and far
more than Nature seems willing to grant."

"No, you are not. You all want him to die."

"Don't say that, Louise. You know that I ain't that mean. But I
acknowledge that I don't want you to marry him."

"What need you care? If I refuse to marry you what difference does it
make to you whom I marry?"

"It makes this difference--that I would rather see you the wife of a man
that can take care of you. Louise, they say that I'm slow about
everything, and I reckon I am, but when a slow man loves he loves for
all time."

"I do