lifted her hand, he willingly sank back into his chair.

"You're a very kind soul, Vance. I never knew it before. I'm appreciating
it now almost too late. But what I have done shall stand!"

"But, my dear, the pain--is it worth--"

"It means that my life is a wreck and a ruin, Vance. But I'll stand by
what I've done. I won't give way to the extent of a single scruple."

And the long, bitter silence which was to last so many days at the
Cornish ranch began. And still they did not look into one another's eyes.
As for Vance, he did not wish to. He was seeing a bright future. Not long
to wait; after this blow she would go swiftly to her grave.

He had barely reached that conclusion when the door opened again. Terry
stood before them in the old, loose, disreputable clothes of a cow-
puncher. The big sombrero swung in his hand. The heavy Colt dragged down
in its holster over his right hip. His tanned face was drawn and stern.

"I won't keep you more than a moment," he said. "I'm leaving. And I'm
leaving with nothing of yours. I've already taken too much. If I live to
be a hundred, I'll never forgive myself for taking your charity these
twenty-four years. For what you've spent maybe I can pay you back one of
these days, in money. But for all the time and--patience--you've spent on
me I can never repay you. I know that. At least, here's where I stop
piling up a debt. These clothes and this gun come out of the money I made
punching cows last year. Outside I've got El Sangre saddled with a saddle
I bought out of the same money. They're my start in life, the clothes
I've got on and the gun and the horse and the saddle. So I'm starting