Mrs. Pantin steadily.

"Older but not wiser, apparently, else you would have known better than
to suggest the possibility of friendship between us. You are a poor
judge of human nature, and conceited past my understanding, to imagine
that it is a matter which is entirely optional with you." With the slow
one-sided smile of irony which her face sometimes wore, she bowed
slightly. Then, "You will excuse me?" and passed on.

CHAPTER XXVI

TAKING HER MEDICINE

The moon was up when Kate got in from town, for she had not hurried.
There was no one there to greet her except the sheep dog that ran out
barking. She unsaddled, turned the horse in the corral, and picked up
the mail sack heavy with Bowers's missives.

She had not eaten since noon, but she was not hungry, and she went to
her wagon immediately. Opening the door she stood there for a moment.
The stillness appalled her. How could such a small space give forth such
a sense of big emptiness, she wondered. Everything was empty--her life,
her arms, and, for the moment, even her ambitions. Unexpectedly the
thought overwhelmed her.

Throwing down the mail sack and tossing her hat upon it, she sank on the
side bench where she folded her arms on the edge of the bunk and buried
her face in them. For a long time she remained so, motionless, in the
silence that seemed to crush her.

When Kate arose finally it was as if she were lifting a burden.
Undressing slowly, she lay down on the bunk and looked out through the
window at the white world swimming in moonlight. Ordinarily, she shut
her eyes to moonlight, it had a way of stirring up emotions which had no
place in her scheme of life. It always made her think of Disston, of the
light in his eyes when he had looked at her, of the feeling of his arms
about her, of his lips on hers when he had kissed her. At such times it
filled her with a longing for him which was a kind of sweet torture
that unnerved her and made the goal for which she strove of
infinitesimal importance.

But that was one of the tricks of moonlight, she told herself angrily,
to dwarf the things which counted, and with its false glamour give a
fictitious value to those which in reality were but impediments.
To-night the arguments were hollow as echoes. It was like telling
herself, she thought, that she was going to sleep when she knew she was
not. She yearned for Disston with all the intensity of her strong
nature, and her efforts to conquer the lon