She felt like a child, then, growing old swiftly.

The strange past longing for a mother surged up in her like a strong tide.

Some one to lean on, some one who loved her, some one to help her in this hour when fatality knocked at the door of her youth--how she needed that! "It might be bad for me--to tell me, but tell me, anyhow," she said, finally, answering as some one older than she had been an hour ago--to something feminine that leaped up.

She did not understand this impulse, but it was in her.
"No!" declared Moore, with dark red staining his face.

He slapped the lasso against his saddle, and tied it with clumsy hands.