Then he stole quietly from the room.
As in a dream Phil had seen Kitty when she rode into the yard.

And he had been conscious of her presence as she moved about the house and the room where he lay.

But he had given no sign that he knew she was there.
As she seated herself, at the Dean's bidding, the cowboy opened his eyes for a moment, and looked up into her face.

Then again the weary lids closed, and he gave no hint that he recognized her, save that the white lips set in firmer lines as though at another stab of pain.
As she watched alone beside this man who had, since she could remember, been a part of her life, and as she realized that he was on the very border line of that land from which, if he entered, he could never return to her, Kitty Reid knew the truth that is greater than any knowledge that the schools of man can give.

She knew the one great truth of her womanhood; knew it not from text book or class room; not from learned professor or cultured associates; but knew it from that good Master of Life who, with infinite wisdom, teaches his many pupils who are free to learn in the school of schools, the School of Nature.