And not from coquetry either. Loth and reluctant
she clung to her independence. A rival might have warmed her to a more
coming-on mood, but there was no rival. When by silence or raillery
she had shut off the avowal she was relieved and yet half despised him
for permitting her to take the lead. Why had he not forced her to
listen? Why had he not seized her and even if she struggled, held her
and made her hear him? She knew little of men, nothing of love, but
she felt, without putting her thoughts even to herself, that to a man
who showed her he was master she would have listened and surrendered.
Riding back to the camp she felt a trifle remorseful about her
behavior. Some day she would marry him--she had got far enough to
admit that--and perhaps it was unkind of her not to let the matter be
settled. And at that she gave a petulant wriggle of her shoulders
under her cotton blouse. Wasn't that his business? Wasn't he the one
to end it, not wait on her pleasure? Were all men so easily governed,
she wondered.
Looking ahead across the grassed bottom land, she saw that the train
had halted and the camp was pitched.
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