Jimmie considered, squinting thoughtfully along Donahue's dusty back. He was sure that Augusta had intended, and had tried, to say something entirely different. "Well," he answered critically and judicially, "he _does_ seem to be unusually sleepy. But whether it is from the effects of your blow or from the soporific influence of my discourse would be hard to say." Donahue ambled on up a gently winding track--it was not quite a road--which was entirely of his own choosing. "Jimmie." "Yes, dear." She nestled closer, and Jimmie waited. "I'm afraid." "What is it, dear?" "You." "Me?" Jimmie inquired blankly, wondering what he had been doing now. "I'm afraid of the time when you get all well and yourself again. You'll want to wander." "Like Jethniah, eh? There now, what did I tell you? That's what comes of listening to him. You think that, like him, the whole male world is uncertain, coy and hard to please." "Please, Jimmie, don't head me off. I'm afraid. I suppose love makes cowards of us all. Do you remember a time when I said that I wouldn't want to keep even a kitten that didn't want to stay?" "Oh, but that was before we were married!" he explained airily. "We all talk turkey at a time like that. It's the last chance we get. And we spend the rest of our lives trying to pay the bets." "Jimmie." "Yes, dear?" "Do you remember the lady I saw you talking with that day in the Square?" "Sure," said Jimmie lightly, "Jean Bradley"--They were far away now, it seemed to him, and the name meant nothing to either of them--, "what about her?" "And the woman in the cards, do you remember?" "You mean the one the gypsy girl wanted to claw me about? Oh yes." "They were the same woman." "Same woman?" asked Jimmie, mentally pawing about for firm ground. "It was the same dark, handsome woman, in the cards, I saw her." "Saw----?" For one rare and breathless moment Jimmie was completely dumbfounded. He could not find a word anywhere. But he reacted bravely. "Well if you saw her," he exclaimed eagerly, "why the deuce didn't you tell her that you'd collect the money she owes us?" "Please, Jimmie, don't joke. I'm trying to say something that's hard to say. You know when we stood before the priest I promised, in my heart, that if I ever thought you wanted to go away from me I would not only let you go but I would force you to be free, by going away and hiding myself." Jimmie said nothing. He sat looking stupidly at Donahue's ear, his hands clutching the reins so that they were cutting into his flesh. There was nothing to be said. Better let her talk this out for herself. "And now," she went on fearfully, "I'm afraid, afraid of that woman. And I'm going to do a cowardly thing. I'm afraid of the test, afraid of myself. Jimmie, I'm going to ask you to promise something. I know it's going back on my own heart promise, but I can't help it--I can't help it!"