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"Dad said she was a damned hussy"

"Jean, dad hates the Jorths"

"Sister, I'm askin' you what you think of Ellen Jorth Would you be friends with her if you could?"

"Yes"

"Then you don't believe she's bad"

"No Ellen Jorth is lonely, unhappy She has no irl can't keep men from handlin' her and kissin' her Maybe she's too free Maybe she's wild But she's honest, Jean You can trust a woman to tell When she rode past me that day her face hite and proud She was a Jorth and I was an Isbel She hated herself--she hated irl could look like that She knohat's said of her all around the valley But she doesn't care She'd encourage gossip"

"Thank you, Ann," replied Jean, huskily "Please keep this--this meetin' of mine with her all to yourself, won't you?"

"Why, Jean, of course I will"

Jean wandered away again, peculiarly grateful to Ann for reviving and upholding so part of the best of hiladdening of his spirit Yet the ache reed deeper into conjecture, doubt Had not the Ellen Jorth incident ended? He denied his father's indictment of her and accepted the faith of his sister "Reckon that's aboot all, as dad says," he soliloquized Yet was that all? He paced under the cedars He watched the sun set He listened to the coyotes He lingered there after the call for supper; until out of the tus there evolved the staggering consciousness that he ain