She did not intend to talk about the relationship between herself and her travelling companion.
There was a charm in Myrtle's company which made the girl half regret leaving the next morning, as they did quite early, amid protests from Myrtle and her mother, who enjoyed a visitor in their isolated home.
But the ride that morning was constrained.

Each felt in some subtle way that their pleasant companionship was coming to a crisis.

Ahead in that town would be letters, communications from the outside world of friends, people who did not know or care what these two had been through together, and who would not hesitate to separate them with a firm hand.

Neither put this thought into words, but it was there in their hearts, in the form of a vague fear.

They talked very little, but each was feeling how pleasant the journey had been, and dreading what might be before.
They wanted to stay in this Utopia of the plains, forever journeying together, and never reaching any troublesome futures where were laws and opinions by which they must abide.
But the morning grew bright, and the road was not half long enough.