That was because one edge had scraped too hard against the side of the hill, perhaps.

But warped though it was, its light fell softly upon Jean's face, and showed it set and still and stern-eyed and somber.
She sat there awhile longer, until the slopes lay softly revealed to her, their hollows filled with inky shadows.

She drew a long breath then, and looked around her at the familiar details of the Bar Nothing dwelling-place, softened a little by the moonlight, but harsh with her memories of unhappy days spent there.

She rose and went into the house and to her room, and changed the hated striped percale for her riding-clothes.
A tall, lank form detached itself from the black shade of the bunk-house as she went by, hesitated perceptibly, and then followed her down to the corral.

When she had gone in with a rope and later led out Pard, the form stood forth in the white light of the moon.
"Where are you going, Jean ?" Lite asked her in a tone that was soothing in its friendliness.
"That you, Lite?
I'm going--well, just going.