"_Verboten!_" I retorted to that, wondering why anything so foolish
could have the power to make my pulses sing.

"Why?" he asked, as his eyes met mine.

"For the same old reason," I told him.

"Reasons," he said, "are like shoes: Time has the trick of wearing
them out."

"When that happens, we have to get new ones," I reminded him.

"Then what is the new one?" he asked, with an unexpectedly solemn look
on his face.

"My husband has just asked me to join him in Calgary," I said,
releasing my bolt.

"Are you going to?" he asked, with his face a mask.

"I think I am," I told him. For I could see, now, how Peter's return
had simplified the situation by complicating it. Already he had made
my course plainer to me. I could foresee what this new factor would
imply. I could understand what Peter's presence at Alabama Ranch would
come to mean. And I had to shut my eyes to the prospect. I was still
the same old single-track woman with a clear-cut duty laid out before
her. There were certain luxuries, for the sake of my own soul's peace,
I could never afford.

"Why are you going back to your husband?" Peter was asking, with real
perplexity on his face.

"Because he needs me," I said as I stood watching the children go
racing down the slide.

"Why?" he asked, with what impressed me as his first touch of
harshness.

"Must I explain?" I inquired with my own first movement in
self-defense, for it had suddenly occurred to me that any such
explaining would be much more difficult than I dreamed.

"Of course not," said Peter, changing color a little. "It's only that
I'm so tremendously anxious to--to understand."

"To understand what?" I questioned, both hoping and dreading that he
would go on to the bitter end.

"That _you_ understand," was his cryptic retort. And for once in his
life Peter disappointed me.

"I can't afford to," I said with an effort at lightness which seemed
to hurt him more than it ought. Then I realized, as I stood looking up
into his face, that I was doing little to merit that humble and
magnificent loyalty of Peter's. _He_ would play fair to the end. He
was too big of heart to think first of himself. It was _me_ he was
thinking of; it was _me_ he wanted to see happy. But I had my own road
to go, and no outsider could guide me.

"It's no use, Peter," I said as I put my mittened hand on his
gauntleted arm without quite knowing I was doing it. And I went on to
warn him that he must not conf