“I never knew before what it was like to—to love,” he stammered. “But I do now. What did you mean by saying that you would not—sell yourself for a worn-out farm? Sell yourself—to me? Why, girl, I’d give you all that I have—and my soul to the devil for—— I’ll do anything you say, if you’ll only marry me! I’ll give you a dozen farms. I’ll——” “Stop!” cried Barbara, her face slowly whitening. “I—I am sorry I said that. I didn’t mean——” “Do you mean that you’ll marry me, Barbara—Barbara!” His eyes devoured her. “Listen,” he went on. “I’ve put in ten such days and nights as I never expected to spend in this or any other world.” He gripped her by the arm. “You—must love me,” he stormed. “I—I can’t give you up!” His shaken voice dropped into a low, pleading tone. “You’ll not believe it, Barbara. But I—didn’t know what it was like to love anyone. Why should I? I married for money—I’m not ashamed to tell you. But Barbara! Barbara!” The words rang out in a stifled cry, as he read the fear—the aversion in hers. She writhed out of his grasp, her breath coming and going in little gasps. “Stop!” she cried. “I—can’t listen!” She clutched at the fence-rail as if she feared his violence. He folded his arms quietly, his face grown suddenly rigid. “Something has happened since the other day,” he said. “What is it?” She was silent. He took two long steps and stood over her, big, powerful, threatening. “You shall answer me. Who or what is it that has come between us?” Again he waited for her to speak; but she stood mute with bent head. His clenched hands dropped at his side. “You’ll not answer me,” he said, in a cold, hard voice. “Well, be it so; go your way, and I’ll go mine. But—I shall not give you up. You’re killing yourself with hard work; it is I who force you to it. I am your master. You can’t escape me!” “You are not my master!” she said wildly. “I’m free—free!” He turned without another look at her, his savage heel grinding an innocent clover blossom into the mud of the road. VIII BARBARA stole softly down the creaking stair in the gray obscurity of dawn, her shoes in one hand, a smoking candle in the other. There was much to be done, much to be thought of, and Jimmy must not wake up to hinder for two full hours yet.