"I felt all right; so did he, I dare say, but we never let each other know
how we felt. Men don't, as a rule. Your uncle takes for granted that I
knew a lot about him,--his thoughts and feelings; that we were immensely
sympathetic. Perhaps we were, but we didn't know it. We knew nothing of
each other intimately. He never spoke to me of his private affairs but
once, the night before he started. It was at Wood River. Some of us gave
him a little supper. Afterwards we had some business to settle and I was
alone with him in his room. It was then I made my break; and--well, it
ended as I say: we quarreled. It has hurt me since, especially as I was
wrong."

"What can men quarrel about when they don't know each other well? Politics,
perhaps?" Daphne endeavored to give her words a general application.

"It was not politics with us," Thane replied curtly. Changing the subject,
he said, "I wish you could see the valley from that hogback over to the
west." He pointed towards the spine of the main divide, which they would
cross on their next day's journey. "Will you come up there this evening and
take a look at the country? The wind will die down at sunset, I think."

There was a studied commonplaceness in his manner; his eyes avoided hers.

"Thanks; I should like to," she answered in the same defensive tone.

* * * * *

"To go back to what we were saying," Daphne began, when they were seated,
that evening, on the hilltop. All around them the view of the world rose
to meet the sky, glowing in the west, purple in the east, while the pale