We'll want friends, everybody has friends. You don't mean for us
always to stay far away from everything in these wild, uncivilized
places?"
"Why not?" he said, not looking at her, noting her rueful tone and
resenting it.
"But we're not that kind of people. You're not a real mountain man.
You're not like Zavier or the men at Fort Laramie. You're Napoleon
Duchesney just as I'm Susan Gillespie. Your people in St. Louis and
New Orleans were ladies and gentlemen. It was just a wild freak that
made you run off into the mountains. You don't want to go on living
that way. That part of your life's over. The rest will be with me."
"And you'll want the cities and the parties?"
"I'll want to live the way Mrs. Duchesney should live, and you'll want
to, too." He did not answer, and she gave his arm a little shake and
said, "Won't you?"
"I'm more Low Courant than I am Napoleon Duchesney," was his answer.
"Well, maybe so, but whichever you are, you've got a wife now and
_that_ makes a great difference."
She tried to infuse some of her old coquetry into the words, but the
eyes, looking sideways at him, were troubled, for she did not yet see
where she had erred.
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