"How very odd," he said with well-assumed surprise. "I, too, am going to
Eagle Nest for a month or so."

She stopped stock-still, and he could feel that she was staring at him
hardly.

"You are going there?" she half whispered.

"They say it is a quiet, restful place," he said. "One reaches it by
stage over-land, I believe." She was strangely silent during the remainder
of the walk. Somehow he felt amazingly sorry for her. "I hope I may see
something of you while we are there," he said at last.

"I imagine I couldn't help it if I were to try," she said. They were in
the path of the light from the window, and he saw the strange little smile
on her face. "I think I'll lie down again. Won't you find a place to
sleep, Mr. Rollins? I can't bear the thought of depriving you--"

"I am the slave of your darkness," he said gravely.

She left him, and he lit another cigar. Daylight came at last to break up
his thoughts, and then his tired eyes began to look for the man and buggy.
Fatigued and weary, he sat upon his steamer trunk, his back to the wall.
There he fell sound asleep.

He was awakened by some one shaking him gently by the shoulder.

"You are a very sound sleeper, Mr. Rollins," said a familiar voice, but
it was gay and sprightly. He looked up blankly, and it was a full
half-minute before he could get his bearings.