Her speech failed her.

Throughout the whole brief interview she had been miserably tongue-tied, stammering monosyllables, confused, horribly awkward, and when Annixter had gone away, she had fled to her little room, and bolting the door, had flung herself face downward on the bed and wept as though her heart were breaking, she did not know why.
That Annixter had been overwhelmed with business all through the winter was an inexpressible relief to Hilma.

His affairs took him away from the ranch continually.

He was absent sometimes for weeks, making trips to San Francisco, or to Sacramento, or to Bonneville.

Perhaps he was forgetting her, overlooking her; and while, at first, she told herself that she asked nothing better, the idea of it began to occupy her mind.
She began to wonder if it was really so.
She knew his trouble.