you have compelled me to say
it, I don't think now that I ever was really fond of him, though I don't
know how I can make that quite clear to you. It was only after I came
out here that I--realized--Gregory. It was not the actual man I fell in
love with in England."

Sally turned her face away, for Agatha had made her meaning perfectly
plain. Somewhat to Sally's astonishment, she showed no sign of
resentment.

"Then," Sally responded, "it is way better that you didn't marry him."
She paused, and seemed to search for words with which to express
herself. "I knew all along all there was to know about Gregory--except
that he was going to marry you, and it was some time before I heard
that--and I was ready to take him. I was fond of him."

Agatha's heart went out to her. "Yes," she said simply, "it is a very
good thing that I let him go." She smiled. "That, however, doesn't quite
describe it, Sally."

Gregory's fiancee flushed. "I couldn't have said that, but you don't
quite understand yet. I said I knew all there was to know about him--and
you never did. You made too much of him in England, and when you came
out here you only saw the things you didn't like in him. Still, they
weren't the only ones."

Agatha started at this statement, for she realized that part of it was
certainly true, and she could admit the possibility of all of it being a
fact. Gregory might possess a few good qualities that she had never
discovered!

"Perhaps I did," she admitted. "I don't think it matters now."

"They're all of them mixed," persisted Sally. "One can't expect too
much, but you can bear with a great deal when you're fond of any one."

Agatha sat silent a while, for she was troubled by a certain sense of
wholesome confusion. It seemed to her that Sally had the clearer vision.
Love had given her discernment as well as charity, and, not expecting
perfection, it was the man's strong points upon which she fixed her
eyes.

"Yes," she replied presently. "I am glad you look at it that way,
Sally."

The girl laughed. "Oh!" she said, "I've only seen one man on the prairie
who was quite white all through, and I had a kind of notion that he was
fond of you."

Agatha sat very still, but it cost her an effort.

Her face asked the question that was in her heart.

"Harry Wyllard," announced Sally.

Agatha made no answer, and Sally changed the subject. "Well," said
Sally, "after all, I want you to be friends with me."

"I think you c