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 Miss Willet's consternation when she found that her secret was out. But John swore himself and me also to secrecy, and bye and bye she thawed out and let him see her joy in the book, which she handled in a caressing way that told her story better than words.

On their way home he seems to have confessed to his companion how he had tormented himself with the question of the authorship, and that was sure to bring about a declaration, as anybody could see.

They rode in over the lower Mesa. It was getting dark, and was so cold that they rode fast. I can imagine how the hoof beats chimed in with John's impetuous words, and if Miss Lamb is the woman I take her for, her own pulse must have kept time with both.