She laughed when she said it, but there was something beneath the laughter, if he had only been close enough to read it.
"I didn't think you'd want to ride through all that dust and heat again to-day," he called back.

"You're better off in the shade." "Going to call on 'Squaw-talk-far-off'-- AGAIN ?" She was still laughing, with something else beneath the laugh.
He glanced at her quickly, wondering where she had gotten the name, and in his wonder neglected to make audible reply.

Also he passed over the change to ride back to the gate and tell her good-by--with a hasty kiss, perhaps, from the saddle--as a lover should have done.
He was not used to love-making.

For him, it was settled that they loved each other, and would marry some day--he hoped the day would be soon.

It did not occur to him that a girl wants to be told over and over that she is the only woman in the whole world worth a second thought or glance; nor that he should stop and say just where he was going, and what he meant to do, and how reluctant he was to be away from her.