“You got to eat, you know,” she reminded Val gently. “You're bucking up ag'inst the hardest part of the trail, and grub's a necessity. Take it like you would medicine--unless your throat's too sore. I see you got it all tied up.” Val raised her hands in a swift alarm and clasped her throat as if she feared Arline would remove the bandages. “Oh, it's not sore--that is, it is sore--I mean not very much,” she stammered betrayingly. Arline set down the tray upon the dresser and faced Val grimly. “I never asked you any questions, did I?” she demanded. “But you act for all the world as if--do you want me to give a guess about that tied-up neck, and that black'n'blue lump on your forehead? I never asked any questions--I didn't need to. Man Fleetwood's been maulin' you abound. I was kinda afraid he'd git to that point some day when he got mad enough; he's just the brand to beat up a woman. But if it took a beatin' to bring you to the quitting point, I'm glad he done it. _Only_,” she added darkly, “he better keep outa my reach; I'm jest in the humor to claw him up some if I should git close enough. And if I happened to forget I'm a lady, I'd sure bawl him out, and the bigger crowd heard me the better. Now, you eat this--and don't get the idee you can cover up any meanness of Man Fleetwood's; not from me, anyhow. I know men better'n you do; you couldn't tell me nothing about 'em that would su'prise me the least bit. I'm only thankful he didn't murder you in cold blood. Are you going to eat?” “Not if you keep on reminding me of such h-horrid things,” wailed Val, and sobbed into her pillow. “It's bad enough to--to have him ch-choke me without having you t-talk about it all the time!” “Now, honey, don't you waste no tears on a brute like him--he ain't w-worth it!” Arline was on her bony knees beside the bed, crying with sympathy and self-reproach. So, in truly feminine fashion, the two wept their way back to the solid ground of everyday living. Before they reached that desirable state of composure, however, Val told her everything--within certain limits set not by caution, but rather by her woman's instinct. She did not, for instance, say much about Kent, though she regretted openly that Polycarp knew so much about it.