It would be very pleasant, when one was in the mood.

But it would not satisfy her.

There was something strong and fierce and primitive in her nature--something that had come down to her through the generations from some harness-girded ancestress--something impelling her instinctively to choose the fighter; to share with him the joy of battle, healing his wounds, giving him of her courage, exulting with him in the victory.
The moon had risen clear of the entangling pines.

It rode serene and free.
Her father came to the station with her in the morning.

The train was not in: and they walked up and down and talked.