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If that shameful
suspicion was a fact why was it---what did it mean? She could not tell, yet
she was afraid of the truth.
All of a sudden Lin Slone stood out clearer in her mental vision--the finest
type of a rider she had ever known--a strong, lithe, magnificent horseman,
whose gentleness showed his love for horses, whose roughness showed his
power--a strange, intense, lonely man in whom she had brought out pride,
gratitude, kindness, passion, and despair. She felt her heart swell at the
realization that she had changed him, made him kinder, made him divide his
love as did her father, made him human, hopeful, longing for a future
unfettered by the toils of desert allurement. She could not control her pride.
She must like him very much. She confessed that, honestly, without a qualm. It
was only bewildering moments of strange agitation and uncertainty that
bothered her. She had refused to be concerned by them until they had finally
impinged upon her peace of mind. Then they accused her; now she accused
herself.


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