In the midst of the deceptions which Elizabeth Hunter was called upon to practise, however, she followed the natural trend of her character in ways which proved how fundamental truth and outrightness were in her make-up. Having discussed Hugh with Luther, she told Hugh that she had done so. This gave Hugh a wrong impression of affairs between the two which she was obliged to set right. "No, Luther never loved me--that is, he never said that he did. That isn't the way we feel about each other. We've just been good friends always. We herded cattle together and told each other things all our lives. I could tell Luther anything." "Well, he couldn't love that black-eyed thing he lives with," Hugh said. "I don't know how it is myself, but he does, and Luther never lies. You can see that he's square with her. He gives her a kind of companionship that will keep her out of the position I'm in, too," she said with conviction, and then saw the kind of blow that she had dealt, and covered her face with her hands for shame. Elizabeth heard the invalid sigh deeply. When she could speak again, she slid down on her knees by his bed and, laying her arm across the shoulders of the man she had hurt, faced herself and her deeds squarely, as was her way. "It's of no use, Hugh. We've got to face it. I didn't intend to hurt you, but I'm in a serious position. I must think of this thing all my life--and I shall shrink whenever I do. I shall see everybody in the light of my own life. I made no comparison between you and Luther. There's love and love in this world, as I've found out. John thought he loved me and I thought I loved him--and look at us! I don't know what Luther would do if he were placed where we are, but that is not the question. I hurt you just now; but, oh, Hugh! I love you too--God help me, and in the midst of it all I want my self-respect back till I could almost die to get it. Sometimes I think I'll go and tell John yet." When for sheer want of breath Elizabeth stopped and looked at Hugh Noland inquiringly, he asked eagerly: "Could we?" And for a long time she looked at him, till her eyes took on a faraway look which said that she was going over details and experiences of the past. In the light of those experiences she finally shook her head. "No," she said with simple conviction. "You don't know John. He'd never understand that---- Well, he'd mix everything uselessly. It would fall hardest on Jack; his future would be spoiled by the humiliation of having everybody think I was worse than I----" Elizabeth could not finish her sentence for the pain on the face before her, and hid her face on the same pillow and cried out her grief and heartache till Hugh had to warn her that Hepsie might come in.