Ann bit her lip; a shudder passed over her strong frame from head to foot. She lowered her big head to her hands. "Sometimes," she groaned, "I wish I could actually curse God for the unfairness of my lot. The hardest things that ever fell to the fate of any human being have been mine. In agony, Jesus Christ prayed, they say, to let His cup pass if possible. _His_ cup! What _was_ His cup? Just death—that’s all; but _this_ is a million times worse than death—this here crucifixion of pride—this here forcing me to help and protect people who deny me, who shiver at a hint of my approach, yelling ’Unclean, unclean!’ like the lepers outside the city gates—beyond the walls that encompass accepted humanity. Joe Boyd"—she raised her face and stared at him—"you don’t no more know me than you know the stars above your head. I am no more the silly girl that you married than I am some one else. I learned the lesson of life away back there when you left in that wagon with the child of my breast. I have fought a long battle, and I’m still fighting. To me, with all my experience, you—you poor little thing—are a baby of a man. You had a wife who, if she _does_ say it, had the brain of a dozen such men as you are, and yet you listened to the talk of a weak, jealous, disappointed woman and came and dared to wipe your feet on me, spit in my face, and drag my name into the mire of public court. I made no defence then—I don’t make any now. I’ll never make any. My life shall be my defence before God, and Him only. I wish it could be a lesson to all young women who are led into misfortune such as mine. To every unfortunate girl I’d say, ’Never marry a man too weak to understand and appreciate you.’ I loved you, Joe Boyd, as much as a woman ever loved a man, but it was like the love of a strong man for a weak, dependent woman. Somehow I gloried in your big, hulking helplessness. What I have since done in the management of affairs I wanted to do for you." "Oh, I know all that, Ann, but this is no time or place to—"