They crossed a field or two and so came again into the road which they had left three miles back. Walking a short distance along this, they found themselves on a sharp hill overlooking the station a few hundred yards below. With the same impulse they turned back far enough to be out of sight of this. Twenty minutes still remained to them. They sat down by the side of the road where they had rested before. A light breeze pushing through the top of a big pine made a sound as of running water in the distance. With her chin in one hand, elbow on knee, she studied him a moment as though endowed with sudden inspiration. A quick frown which had shadowed his face at sight of the railroad had driven home a suspicion which she had long held. Now she dared to voice it. "Have things been mixed up for you--back there?" The question startled him. He gave her a swift look as though to divine the reason for it. It was so direct that it was hard to evade. And he would not lie directly to her. So he replied bluntly, "Yes." She waited. He saw her expectant eyes, but he went no further. Part of the price he paid for being here was renunciation of the balm he might have in the sharing of his trouble with her. He knew that she would take his silence for a rebuff, but he could not help that. He said nothing more, the silence eating into him. But something stronger than her pride drove her on. "Mr. Donaldson," she said, "you have given a great deal of time to me and mine--if there is anything I may do in return, you will give me the privilege?" "There is nothing," he answered. He saw the puzzled hurt in her eyes. "I know all that you with your big heart would do for me," he declared earnestly, "but honestly there is nothing possible. My worry will cure itself. I can see the end of it even now." "Will the end of it come within a month?" "Within a week." "Perhaps," she said, "I could hasten the end to a day." "No," he smiled, "I 'd rather you would n't. I 'd rather you would prolong it if you could." "Is that a riddle?" "To you." "Then I can't answer it for I never guessed one in my life." So with his knuckles kneading the grass by his side, he made light of it until she turned away from the subject to admire the blue seen through the pine needles above their heads. Soon he heard the distant low whistle of the engine which was coming for them like a sheriff with a warrant. He was not conscious of very much more until they were back again in the house and he heard Arsdale's voice, "I 've rented the offices, old man! Swellest in the city. To-morrow you must come down and see them!" CHAPTER XXII _Clouds_