“No one else in the world has got the same sort of face as you,” he said at length. “That’s not to be regretted,” she murmured foolishly. “You’ve the dearest little mouth, the way your upper lip comes down in a point on your lower one! I don’t believe there’s another woman in the world with such a queer little fascinating mouth.” He continued to gaze at her, half-smiling, but with intent eyes. Both felt the desire to talk leaving them. The silence of the landscape seemed to take possession of them, to make speech seem trivial and unnecessary. “Why did you refuse Rion Gracey?” he said suddenly in a lowered voice. She did not reply and he repeated the question. “I didn’t care for him,” she said so low he could hardly hear the words. He laid his hand on hers, gathering up her small fingers in his large grasp. “Why?” he repeated, pressing them. She turned away in evident distress and he whispered: “Was it because you loved me?” Her head drooped and he put his lips almost against her cheek as he whispered again: “It was. I know it.” They were silent once more, neither looking at the other now. Both trembled, guilt and fear strong in their hearts. At this moment a rabbit sprang from a sage bush across the path, and the horse, curling backward in a spasm of fear, rose to its hind legs and then leaped forward along the road. It took Jerry a full five minutes to control him and turn his head toward home. “I’ll take you back now,” he said, throwing the words sidewise at her as they flew onward. “I’ll stop at the mouth of Crazy Saunders’ Tunnel. You can walk in from there. If I drove you into town some idiot would see us and make talk. I never saw anything like this place. If Saint Cecilia and Jephthah’s daughter settled here for a week they’d cook up some gossip about them.” There was no more speech between them till they saw the timbered opening of Crazy Saunders’ Tunnel loom in sight. Beyond, the first cottages of the town edged the road. At the tunnel’s mouth Jerry drew up. June put her foot forward for the step, and as she did so he leaned toward her and said: “I’m coming to see you soon.” She looked quickly at him, protest and alarm in her face. “No, don’t do that,” she said almost sharply. “I don’t want you to. You mustn’t.” “Why not?” he answered in a tone of cool defiance. “Why shouldn’t I? We’re old friends. I see no reason why I shouldn’t come up to see you now and then.” The fretting horse, capering and prancing with impatience, cut off further conversation. June scrambled out, reiterating: “No, don’t come. I don’t want you to.” As the horse sprang forward Jerry called over his shoulder: “_Hasta mañana_, Señorita. I’m not going to say good-by.”