"Why should I ?" she queried.

"A horse cain't help it if he belongs to--to--" Ellen was not sure of anything except that more and more it grew good to be alone.
A whole day in the lonely forest passed swiftly, yet it left a feeling of long time.

She lived by her thoughts.

Always the morning was bright, sunny, sweet and fragrant and colorful, and her mood was pensive, wistful, dreamy.

And always, just as surely as the hours passed, thought intruded upon her happiness, and thought brought memory, and memory brought shame, and shame brought fight.