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"Why, Carley, I mean the people I lost my leg for!" he replied, with terrible softness. "The British? The French?" she queried, in bewilderment. "No!" he cried, and turned his face to the wall. Carley dared not ask him more. She was shocked. How helplessly impotent all her earnest sympathy! No longer could she feel an impersonal, however kindly, interest in this man.
Vessel of blood and flesh she might be, doomed by nature to the reproduction of her kind, but she had in her the supreme spirit and power to carry on the progress of the ages the climb of woman out of the darkness. Carley went out to the workmen. The house should be completed and she would live in it.
Some day I'll break out and flay you and your friends alive." "But, Carley, you're my friend and you're just exactly like we are. Or you were, quite recently." "Of course, I'm your friend. I've always loved you, Eleanor," went on Carley, earnestly. "I'm as deep in this this damned stagnant muck as you, or anyone. But I'm no longer blind.
She heard the chug of a gasoline engine and the baa-baa of sheep. Glenn waited for her to catch up with him, and he said: "Carley, this is one of Hutter's sheep camps. It's not a a very pleasant place. You won't care to see the sheep-dip. So I'm suggesting you wait here " "Nothing doing, Glenn," she interrupted. "I'm going to see what there is to see."
As one waking from a dream Carley saw the blocks and squares of gray apartment houses and red buildings, the miles of roofs and chimneys, the long hot glaring streets full of playing children and cars. Then above the roar of the train sounded the high notes of a hurdy-gurdy. Indeed she was home. Next to startle her was the dark tunnel, and then the slowing of the train to a stop.
Ruff gazed down at her with great disapproval and even disappointment. "Say, did you have some fool idee I was a-goin' to kill you?" he queried, gruffly. "I'm afraid I did," faltered Carley. Her relief was a release; it was so strange that it was gratefulness. "Wal, I reckon I wouldn't have hurt you. None of these flop-over Janes for me!... An' I'll give you a hunch, Pretty Eyes.
Time seemed to stand still here, and what Carley wanted most was for the hours and days to fly, so that she would be home again. At last Flo returned with the men. One quick glance at Glenn convinced Carley that Flo had not yet told him about the sheep dipper, Haze Ruff. "Carley, you're a real sport," declared Glenn, with the rare smile she loved. "It's a dreadful mess.
Let me assure you that it has been about all left to me of what is noble and beautiful. Whatever the changes in me for the worse, my love for you, at least, has grown better, finer, purer. And now for your second question, "Are you coming home as soon as you are well again?"... Carley, I am well. I have delayed telling you this because I knew you would expect me to rush back East with the telling.
And she writhed in her misery. Some one knocked on her door. The Mexican woman called anxiously. Carley awoke to the fact that her presence was not solitary on the physical earth, even if her soul seemed stricken to eternal loneliness. Even in the desert there was a world to consider. Vanity that had bled to death, pride that had been crushed, availed her not here.
Carley roused out of her memories to take up the letter that had so perplexed her. It bore the postmark, Flagstaff, Arizona. She reread it with slow pondering thoughtfulness. March 25. DEAR CARLEY: It does seem my neglect in writing you is unpardonable. I used to be a pretty fair correspondent, but in that as in other things I have changed.
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