"No, I ain't. I'm a awful man. When you learn more about me you'll think I'm the worst man you ever seen." "We'll have to wait," was all that Mary Warren could think to say. But after a time she turned her face toward him once more. "Do you know," said she, "I think you're a gentleman!" "Oh, my Lord!" said Sim Gage, his eyes going every which way. "Oh, my good Lord!" "Well, it's true. Look--you haven't said a word or done a thing--you haven't touched me--or laughed--or--or hinted--not once. That's being a gentleman, in a time like this. This--this is a very hard place for a woman." "It ain't so easy fer a man! But I couldn't have done no other way, could I?" She made no answer. "Are there many other women in this valley, Mr. Gage?" she asked after a time. "Who are they? What are they like?" "Five, in twenty-two miles between my place and town, ma'am," he answered, "when they're home. The nearedest one to us is about couple miles, unless you cut through the fields." "Who is she? What is she like?" "That is Mis' Davidson, our school ma'am-- She's the only woman I seen a'most all last summer, unlessen onct in a while a woman would come out with some fishing party in a automobile. Most of them crosses up above on the bridge and comes down the other side of the creek from us. Seems to me sometimes women has always been just acrosst the creek from me, ma'am. I don't know much about them. Now, Wid--Wid Gardner--he's the next rancher to me, this side--he sometimes has folks come there in the fishing season." "Your log house is all painted and nice, isn't it?" "_Painted_, ma'am? Lord, no! You don't paint a log house none." "I never saw one in my life," said she contritely; then, sighing. "I never will, now." "Do men come to your place very much, then?" she asked at length. "Why, Wid, he sometimes comes over." "And who is Wid?" "Like I said, he's got the next ranch to mine. He's maybe a forwarder sort of man than me." "Did he have anything to do with--that advertisement?" "How can you guess things like that?" "He thought you were all alone?" "We did have some talk. But I want to tell you one thing, ma'am--if I had ever thought onct that we'd a-brung a woman like _you_ here, I'd never of been part nor party to it. I guess not!" "And yet you can't see why you're a gentleman!" said she again slowly. "You said you'd be going back home again before long?" It was the first thing Sim Gage could say. "I haven't any home." "Nor no folks neither?" "There's not a soul in the world that I could go back to, Mr. Gage. So now, I've told you the truth." "But there was oncet, maybe?" he said shrewdly. "How old are you?" He flushed suddenly at this question, which he asked before he thought. "I'm twenty-five." "You don't look that old. Me, I'm thirty-seven. I'm too old to marry. Now I never will."