"I started back
to fetch my things out of my room. That's as far as my muddled thoughts got."
"Your things? . . . Oh!" Suddenly she grew intensely white. The little
freckles that had been so indistinct stood out markedly, and it was as if she
had never had any tan. One brown hand went to her breast, the other fluttered
to his arm again. "You mean to--to go away--for good."
"Sure. What else can I do?"
"Lin! . . . Oh, there comes Dad! He mustn't see me. I must run. . . . Lin,
don't leave Bostil's Ford--don't go--DON'T!"
Then she flew round the corner of the house, to disappear. Slone stood there
transfixed and thrilling. Even Bostil's heavy tread did not break the trance,
and a meeting would have been unavoidable had not Bostil turned down the path
that led to the back of the house. Slone, with a start collecting his
thoughts, hurried into the little room that had been his and gathered up his
few belongings. He was careful to leave behind the gifts of guns, blankets,
gloves, and other rider's belongings which Bostil had presented to him.
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