"You can't save life without running some risk yourself, not as a rule,
can you?" she said, shrinking from his familiarity.

"Not as a rule," he replied. "You took on a bit of risk with me, you and
your Piegan pony."

"Oh, I was young," she responded, leaning over the table, and drawing
faces on a piece of paper before her. "I could take more risks, I was
only nineteen!"

"I don't catch on," he rejoined. "If it's sixteen or--"

"Or fifty," she interposed.

"What difference does it make? If you're done for, it's the same at
nineteen as fifty, and vicey-versey."

"No, it's not the same," she answered. "You leave so much more that you
want to keep, when you go at fifty."

"Well, I dunno. I never thought of that."

"There's all that has belonged to you. You've been married, and have
children, haven't you?"

He started, frowned, then straightened himself. "I got one girl--she's
east with her grandmother," he said jerkily.

"That's what I said; there's more to leave behind at fifty," she replied,
a red spot on each cheek. She was not looking at him, but at the face of