"The thing that counts out here is being yourself, Dick, in making a place by your determination, your wits, by impressing people with the best that is in you. Material things don't count in the mountains; that is, they don't count primarily. They are nice things to possess but the possession of them alone does not bring respect ... the respect of others or self respect. That, I think, is what I want: respect. That is what I am going to win. The only way I can win it is to establish a place for myself by my own efforts. These men doubt that I can do it. You are right, I believe, when you picture the whole country expecting me to fail. Well, that's an incentive, isn't it, to do my best? That is what I am here to do! "There, there's Book One." Then looking out into the country.... "There's the rest of the story." The man did not reply for an instant but stood frowning at the floor. "And when you fail? What then?" She laughed almost merrily. "Don't say _when_ so positively! But if I should fail, Dick, I might have to take you up! It might break my faith in myself because it's a young, immature faith, but it will give me a chance, a few months of seeing whether I'm of any account. It gives me a hope." As she spoke of her alternative a glimmer as of hope passed across the man's thin, finely moulded face but he did not let her see. He shook his head and said: "After this the first thing I need is a drink." "On the sideboard," she answered, "is my stock." He walked down the room and examined the bottles, then poured out two drinks and returned with them. "Anyhow, we'll drink to your future, whatever and wherever it may be," he said, cynical again. "That's kind of you, but I'm afraid you'll have to drink alone." She put the glass he had handed her on the table. "It's the first time I've ever seen you refuse a drink." "A record broken! That, like the rest of the old life, all belongs in Book One." "You ... you never thought you used enough to hurt?" "No. I'm sure I never used enough to hurt my body. I never thought I used enough to hurt anything about me ... until last night." "What made you change your mind?" She was half impelled to pass the question off, then said resolutely: "A man came here to talk to me, one of my cowpunchers. I made a cocktail. He threw it away." "Well, that was a devil of a thing to do. Did you fire him, as he deserved?" "No,"--deliberately, tracing a line on a rug with her toe and watching it critically--"I took his advice. You see, the men out here expect things from women that no one has ever expected from me before." He sneered: "Turned Puritan, Jane? A sweet thing to face, trying to be other than yourself, confining yourself to the morals of the crowd." "Not just that, Dick. There's a sweetness about it, yes. As for morals: we didn't discuss them at all....