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On the spur of the moment there was no objection Ann could raise to this arrangement; and ten minutes later she and Rodney had said good night to the Fords, and were walking down the drive towards the road.

Ann was endeavoring to manufacture small talk. She was desperately afraid of the silences between them—afraid that he should see too plainly the pain that she had suffered ever since the remarks of Biddy and Jo had revealed his intimacy with Stephanie Hemingway. In the future she knew that she would learn to view with indifference his friendships for other women. She despised herself for this stupid consciousness of jealousy. “It’s wounded vanity,” she told herself. “I’ve been feeling out of it—of no importance. Such a petty attitude of mind! I won’t give in to it! I won’t! Why shouldn’t he admire Stephanie? She’s very pretty and very sweet.” And then her mind flew on to his engagement to Stephanie. She saw Stephanie overruling all the objections of her family to the match. Saw her in her white wedding-gown with orange-blossoms and veil complete, walking down the aisle with her handsome bridegroom. Mr. and Mrs. Rodney Marsh were settled on a small sheep-station before Ann and her companion had reached the willow-bordered road leading to the river bridge. She was even picturing their family—growing up—going to good schools—coming to “Ann’s” to buy the girls’ outfits! And all the while she talked on, apparently quite happily, to the man beside her. But Marsh himself was not so talkative. He answered her questions; told her of a job he had been offered—buyer for one of the big stock and station agents in the town.