through the darkness in thin-soled shoes that bruised her feet on
every rock. And then it came to her with a great swell of joy
that this man beside her was not such a man.

"I love horses," she said. "I almost love them better than I do
dancing, only I don't know anything about them. My father rode a
great roan war-horse. He was a captain of cavalry, you know. I
never saw him, but somehow I always can see him on that big
horse, with a sash around his waist and his sword at his side. My
brother George has the sword now, but Tom--he's the brother I
live with says it is mine because it wasn't his father's. You
see, they're only my half-brothers. I was the only child by my
mother's second marriage. That was her real marriage--her
love-marriage, I mean."

Saxon ceased abruptly, embarrassed by her own garrulity; and yet
the impulse was strong to tell this young man all about herself,
and it seemed to her that these far memories were a large part of
her.

"Go on an' tell me about it," Billy urged. "I like to hear about
the old people of the old days. My people was along in there,
too, an' somehow I think it was a better world to live in than
now. Things was more sensible and natural. I don't exactly say
what I mean. But it's like this: I don't understand life to-day.
There's the labor unions an' employers' associations, an'
strikes', an' hard times, an' huntin' for jobs, an' all the rest.
Things wasn't like that in the old days. Everybody farmed, an'
shot their meat, an' got enough to eat, an' took care of their
old folks. But now it's all a mix-up that I can't understand.