In the deepening darkness her fingers found his arm. The motion of the car masked the violence of her trembling, but for a time the pounding of her heart would not allow her speech.
"Dave," she said at length, "I want to tell you that I think you--that we--that I--oh! I've been very selfish and proud--"
Her fingers had followed his arm to the shoulder, and the car had idled to a standstill. "I have fought as long as I can, Dave." She raised her eyes full to his, and felt them glowing upon her in the dusk. "I have fought as long as I can," she said, "and I--I always wanted to--to lose, you know; and now--I surrender." . . .
Elden lost no time in facing the unpleasant task of an interview with Mrs. Hardy. It was even less pleasant than he expected.
"Irene is of age," said Mrs. Hardy, bluntly. "If she will she will. But I must tell you plainly that I will do all I can to dissuade her. Ungrateful child!" she exclaimed, in an outburst of temper, "after all these years to throw herself away in an infatuation for a cow _puncher_."
The thorn of Mrs. Hardy's distress, revealed as it was in those last contemptuous words, struck Dave as so ridiculous that he laughed outright. It was the second occasion upon which his sense of humour had suffered an inopportune reaction in her presence.
"Yes, laugh at me," she said, bitterly. "Laugh at her mother, an old woman now, alone in the world--the mother that risked her life for the child you are taking with a laugh--"
"I beg your pardon," said Dave. "I was not laughing at you, but at the very great aversion in which you hold anyone who has at one time followed the profession of a cowboy. As one who was born practically with a lariat in his hand I claim the liberty of being amused at that aversion. I've known many of the cow punching trade, and a good few others, and while the boys are frequently rough they are generally white--a great deal whiter than their critics--and with sounder respect for a good woman than I have found in circles that consider themselves superior. So if you ask me to apologize for the class from which I come I have only a laugh for your answer. But when you say I have taken your child thoughtlessly, there you do me an injustice. And when you speak of being left alone in the world you do both Irene and me an injustice. And when you call yourself an old woman you do us all an injustice--"