s forests, of contented, quiet days on trail and
stream, could lay fast hold of her again, they would only defer the day
of reckoning, as Bill had said.

And she was not prepared to go that far. She still harbored a
smoldering grudge against him for his volcanic outburst in Granville,
and too precipitate departure. He had given her no time to think, to
make a choice. The flesh-pots still seemed wholly desirable--or,
rather, she shrank from the alternative. When she visualized the North
it uprose always in its most threatening presentment, indescribably
lonely, the playground of ruthless, elemental forces, terrifying in its
vast emptinesses. It appalled her in retrospect, loomed unutterably
desolate in contrast to her present surroundings.

No, she would not attempt to call him back. She doubted if he would
come. And she would not go--not yet. She must have time to think.

One thing pricked her sorely. She could not reconcile the roguery of
Brooks and Lorimer with the men as she knew them. Not that she doubted
Bill's word. But there must be a mistake somewhere. Ruthless
competition in business she knew and understood. Only the fit
survived--just as in her husband's chosen field only the peculiarly fit
could hope to survive. But she rather resented the idea that pleasant,
well-bred people could be guilty of coarse, forthright fraud. Surely
not!

Altogether, as the first impression of Bill's letter grew less vivid to
her she considered her grievances more. And she was minded to act as
she had set out to do--to live her life as seemed best to her, rather
than pocket her pride and rejoin Bill. The feminine instinct to compel
the man to capitulate asserted itself more and more strongly.

Wherefore, she dressed carefully and prepared to meet a luncheon
engagement which she recalled as being down for that day. No matter
that her head ached woefully. Thought maddened her. She required
distraction, craved change. The chatter over the tea-cups, the
cheerful nonsense of that pleasure-seeking crowd might be a tonic.
Anything was better than to sit at home and brood.

CHAPTER XXXII

THE SPUR.

A month passed.

During that thirty-day period she received a brief note from Bill.
Just a few lines to say:

Hit the ranch yesterday, little person. Looks good to me. Have had
Lauer do some work on it this summer. Went fishing last night about
sundown. Trout were rising fine. Nailed a two-pounder.