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Updated: June 9, 2025
He moved over to one side of the seat, and looked back as if he expected to help in getting Harboro's horse tied behind the carriage. His invitation did not seem at all like a command, but it did seem to imply that a refusal would be out of the question. The arrangement seemed quite simple and desirable to Harboro.
Where had the goatherd hidden himself? She nodded without bringing her glance to meet Harboro's. "I know a good many of the Eagle Pass people. I've never seen you before." "I thought you must be a stranger," she replied. She brought her glance to his face now and seemed to explore it affectionately, as one does a new book by a favorite author. "I've never seen you before, either."
Nevertheless he, Fectnor, would be under a disadvantage in this test of skill which was being forced upon him. When he turned he would need just a second to get a perfect balance, to be quite sure of his footing, to get his bearings. And that one second might make all the difference in the outcome of the affair. Moreover, there was one other point in Harboro's favor, Fectnor realized.
"Well, then, I don't want to marry him," continued Sylvia. Harboro ignored her. "What do you say, Runyon?" "In view of her unwillingness, and the fact that she is already married " "Runyon!" The word was pronounced almost like a snarl. Runyon had adopted a facetious tone which had stirred Harboro's fury. Something of the resiliency of Runyon's being vanished at that tone in the other man's voice.
She liberated the imprisoned currents up in the little mediæval lanterns. She drew the blinds so that she should feel quite alone. She had put on one of the dresses which made her look specially slim and soft and childlike. She knew the garment became her, because it always brought a tender expression to Harboro's eyes. And then she sat down and waited. At eight o'clock Runyon came.
They were rather thrilled at the prospect of a dénouement to the story of Harboro's eccentricity. They used no harsher word than that. They liked him and they would have deplored anything in the nature of a misfortune overtaking him.
It stretched, smooth and white, away into the dusk. The air was clear as on a mountain top, with just enough crispness to create energy. Of wind there was scarcely a breath. She was not pleased at all with Harboro's friend. He had assumed the attitude of a deferential guide, and his remarks were almost entirely addressed to Harboro.
If you danced with one of them you paid thirty cents at the bar and got a drink, while the girl was given a check good for fifteen cents in the trade of the place. The girls used to cash in their checks at the end of a night's work at fifty cents a dozen. It wasn't quite fair; but then the proprietor was a business man. "My class is very fine!" The words came back to Harboro's mind.
He overheard the conference between Harboro and the others, and he made himself one of the group with pleasant familiarity. "Ah, Harboro, must you be going, too?" he inquired genially; and then: "If you don't mind, I'll ride with you. It's rather a lonely road at this hour, and I've an idea I know the way better than you." Harboro's eyes certainly brightened with relief.
It seemed to her that years had passed since she had seen the moon a full moon, swinging, at this hour of the evening, in the eastern sky. "Come, Sylvia!" It was Harboro's urgent voice again. "If I only could!" she said, moving a little in token of her discomfort. "Why not?" "I mean, if any of us could ever say what it is that has gone wrong. Everything has gone wrong. From the very beginning.
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