well, say for ever?"

"I wouldn't like that," replied Joan. "I'd like this--camping out
like this now--if my folks only knew I am alive and well and safe. I
love lonely, dreamy places. I've dreamed of being in just such a one
as this. It seems so far away here--so shut in by the walls and the
blackness. So silent and sweet! I love the stars. They speak to me.
And the wind in the spruces. Hear it. ... Very low, mournful! That
whispers to me--to-morrow I'd like it here if I had no worry. I've
never grown up yet. I explore and climb trees and hunt for little
birds and rabbits--young things just born, all fuzzy and sweet,
frightened, piping or squealing for their mothers. But I won't touch
one for worlds. I simply can't hurt anything. I can't spur my horse
or beat him. Oh, I HATE pain!"

"You're a strange girl to live out here on this border," he said.

"I'm no different from other girls. You don't know girls."

"I knew one pretty well. She put a rope round my neck," he replied,
grimly.

"A rope!"

"Yes, I mean a halter, a hangman's noose. But I balked her!"

"Oh! ... A good girl?"

"Bad! Bad to the core of her black heart--bad as I am!" he
exclaimed, with fierce, low passion.