man of me: she was
the proudest and the poorest little woman in the colony; and in point of
fact (if this matters to you) she was not badly connected at home."

Moya said that it didn't matter to her one bit; and was unaware of any
insincerity in the denial.

"I don't tell you what her name was," continued Rigden. "I would if you
insisted. But I hate the sound of it myself, for they treated her very
badly on her marriage, and we never used to mention them from one year's
end to another."

Moya pressed his hand, but not the point, though she was sorely tempted
to do that too. She had even a sense of irritation at his caring to hide
anything from her, but she was quick to see the unworthiness of this
sentiment, and quicker to feel a remorse which demanded some sort of
expression in order to restore complete self-approval. Yet she would
not confess what had been (and still lingered) in her mind. So she
fretted about the trifle in your true lover's fashion, and was silent
until she hit upon a compromise.

"You know--if only anybody could!--how I would make up to you for all
that you have lost, dearest. But nobody can. And I am full of the most
diabolical faults--you can't imagine!"

And now she was all sincerity. But Rigden laughed outright.

"Tell me some of them," said he.

Moya hesitated; and did not confess her innate curiosity after all. She
was still much too conscious of that blemish.

"I have a horrible temper," she said at length.

"I don't believe it."

"Ask Theodore."

"I certainly shouldn't believe him."

"Then wait and see."

"I will; and when I see it I'll show you what a real temper is like."

"Then----"

"Yes?"

"Well, I suppose I've had more attention than I deserve. So I suppose
you might call me unreasonable--exacting--in fact, selfish!"

This was more vital; hence the hesitation on his part.

"When I do," said Rigden, solemnly, "you may send me about my business."

"It may be too late."

"Then we won't meet our troubles half-way," cried the young man, with
virile common-sense. "Come! We love each other; that's good enough to go
on with. And we've got the station to ourselves; didn't I work it well?
So don't let's talk through our necks!"

The bush slang made the girl smile, but excitement had overstrung her
finer nerves, and neither tone nor topic could she change at will.

"Shall we always love each other, darling?"

And there was the merest film of moisture upon the lovely