women. I dare say I could have brought Bernal around even had
he been selfish and stubborn. By putting a proposition forward as a
matter of course, one may often induce another to accept it as such,
whereas he might dispute it if it were put forward as at all debatable.
But as a matter of fact he required no talking to; he accepted my views
readily. The boy doesn't seem to know the value of money. I really
believe he may decide to make over the whole of the property to me. That
is what I call a beautiful unselfishness. But I shall do handsomely by
him--probably he can use some money in that cattle business. I had
thought first of ten thousand dollars, but doubtless half that will be
wiser. I shall insist upon his taking at least half that. He will find
that unselfishness is a game two can play at."

Nancy had listened to this absently, without comment. Nor had Bernal
moved her to speech when he said, "You know, Allan is such a sensitive
old chap--you wouldn't guess how sensitive. His feelings were actually
hurt because I'd kept him out of grandad's money all these years. He'd
forgotten that I didn't know I was doing it. Of course the old boy was
thinking what he'd have done in my place--but I think I can make it
right with him--I'm sure now he knows I didn't mean to wrong him."

Yet during this speech he had shot furtive little questioning looks at
her face, as if to read those thoughts he knew she would not put into
words.

But she only smiled at Bernal. Her husband, however, found her more
difficult than ever after communicating his news to her. He tried once
to imagine her being dissatisfied with him for some reason. But this
attempt he abandoned. Thereafter he attributed her coldness, aloofness,
silence, and moodiness to some nervous malady peculiar to the modern
woman. Bernal's presence kept him from noting how really pronounced and
unwavering her aversion had become.

Nor did Bernal note her attitude. Whatever he may have read in Allan at
those times when the look of cold appraisement was turned full upon him,
he had come to know of his brother's wife only that she was Nancy of the
old days, strangely surviving to greet him and be silent with him, or to
wonder with him when he came in out of that preposterous machine of many
wheels that they called the town. No one but Nancy saw anything about it
to wonder at.

To Bernal, after his years in the big empty places, it was a part of all
the world and of all times