He was sensitive to some pathos of aloofness which her whole being expressed for him, and he strove to meet this with pictures of herself returning, a well woman; but she turned her face from him at length, and did not speak for so long that he thought she might be sleeping. He went carefully out, with a last enveloping look. When he had gone the woman laughed in a helpless, shuddering way, then raised herself far enough toward the window to see the fields rushing by outside. There was timidity in her look until she had seen a mile of that relentless earth rush back and away from her. She seemed to need this assurance that she was going away from the trouble in the crude, literal sense of earthly distance--going off where there was room "to live," she had told Ewing; "to die," she had amended the phrase to herself. For death was now a solace she faced. She who had been so hot for the fight, so avid of life, had been cheated of a combatant's privileges. She could not tell Ewing the truth, and she could not live while he believed the lie. It was well, she thought, to know that she had only to let herself float down that placid current of the white death. She was amazed at her own calmness and tested it in all subtle ways, making sure of its foundations. She could find no weak spot. She craved only a moderate speed in the descent. Too long a wait would be wearisome, and the wise man had assured her against that. Yet she felt that she had the right to be a little glad when her brother told her the next day of a change in the plan. "It will be better for you and Virgie to go to Ewing's place, Nell. It's always quiet there, and my place is pretty busy and noisy. I'll manage to stay over there with you a good deal, and we'll get a woman to come and do for you--I know one that will be glad to come. It will only be for a little while, you know." She smiled at that well-worn fiction, but applauded the plan. "I shall like it, dear, and Virgie will, too, I'm sure, if you think it best, and if Mr. Ewing----" "Ewing suggested it, and he didn't waste any words telling what a good plan he thought it was. We'll have some extra things brought up from Pagosa to make you comfortable, and you can have a bully long rest there." "A long rest, yes--and let us have a piano. I'd like to hear some music while I'm resting." "Sure! we'll have one up from Durango. You might need to stay there until--well--into the winter, you know." "I think so, Clarence." She was tempted sometimes to confide to him the truth about her sickness, but refrained. "Well, it won't be very long. All you want is a rest."