"That would be a useless sacrifice of yourself and others," the Young
Doctor answered quietly. Seeing that the new thing in her was not to be
conquered in a moment, he quickly made up his mind what to do.

"See," he continued, "you needn't go back to Tralee to-night, but you're
not going to stay here, dear child. I'll take you over to Nolan Doyle's
ranch, to Mrs. Doyle. You'll spend the night there, and we'll think
about to-morrow when to-morrow comes. You certainly can't stay here.
I'm not going to have it.

"Bless you, you're neither so young nor so old as all that!"

Suddenly he grasped both her arms and looked her in the face. "My dear
young lady," he said gently, "I'm not your only friend, but I'm a stout
friend--so stout that there isn't a mount can carry us both together.
When you ride, I walk; when I ride, you walk--you understand? We don't
walk or ride together. I'm taking care of you. Your life is too good to
be ruined by rashness. You're in a 'state,' as my old housekeeper would
say, but you'll be all right presently. As soon as I've made a salad,
and had a marrowbone, you and I and Patsy Kernaghan are going to Nolan
Doyle's ranch. . . . My dear, you must do what I say, and if you do,
you'll be happy yet. I don't see how, quite, but it is so; and
meanwhile, you mustn't make any mistakes. You must play the game.
And now come and have some supper."

She waved her hand in protest. "I can't eat," she said. "Indeed, I
can't."

"Well, you can drink," he answered. "You shall not leave this house