as thinking of a moment which had occurred down at the pastures.
A moment just before her return home to supper. To her it had been a
moment of compensation for everything which she had ever suffered, a
moment when the whole aspect of her life had been suddenly changed to a
radiant vision of happiness.

She had been standing beside Jeff watching the work of the boys within
the pastures. Their talk had all been of the business of the day.
There had been no other sign between them. The old comradeship alone
seemed to prevail. Then they had turned away, with their talk
silenced. They had moved toward their horses which were standing in
the shadow of a small bluff.

Just as they came up Jeff had paused, and turned, and looked down at
her from his superior height. She would never forget that look. It
was the look she had seen in his eyes when he first gazed on the beauty
of the woman he had married. Her heart was set thumping in her bosom
as she thought of it now. A deep flush surged to her cheeks, and she
kept her head studiously bent over her plate.

Then had followed a great impulsive abandoning of his usual reserve.
It had been so unusual in him, but to Nan so natural. It seemed as
though of a sudden some great barrier between them had been thrust
aside by emotions beyond the man's control. He had flung out his hands
toward her, and, before she knew what was happening, she felt their
passionate pressure under the buckskin gauntlets she was wearing. Then
had come words, rapid, even disjointed; again to her so natural, yet
strange, awkward on the lips of this man.

"Say, little Nan," he cried, "we've won out. Look at 'em. The
pastures. They're full. Fuller than we ever guessed they'd be after
last year. Things are running same as we've dreamed. The Obar's going
up--up. And--it's all too late."

On the warm impulse of the moment she had answered him without a second
thought.

"Why--why is it too late?"

Her hands were still held in his passionate grasp. He laughed a
bitter, mirthless laugh.

"Why, because--because I've wakened out of a passionate nightmare to
realize all I've--lost."

She had abruptly withdrawn her hands. She remembered the curious chill
which suddenly seemed to pass through her body. But she answered him
simply, earnestly.

"You mustn't blame yourself for all you've lost, Jeff," she said.
"Maybe Evie loved you better than you knew. But she--she, too, was to
blame. You