She smiled appreciatively, downing her misery for the moment, and hastened to say:
"Don't you think it would be better, if I were there now? You see, I could be with him all the time, watch him, help him over the worst days. It surely wouldn't set him back to see me now."
"And might it not be that living alone with you, away from the things he needs: good care, the comforts he's been brought up to know, the right food...."
So confused was Bayard before the conviction that he must meet this argument, that he proceeded without caution, without thought of the foundation of lies on which his separation of husband and wife rested, he burst out:
"But he has them there! Here, ma'am, he'd been seein' an' hearin' folks, he'd be tempted continually. Out there ... why, ma'am, he don't see nobody, hear nothin'. He couldn't be more comfortable. There ain't a house in Yavapai, not one this side o' Prescott, that's better fixed up. I brought out a bed for him into th' kitchen so 't would be lighter, easier for him to be watched. He ... I have sheets for him an' good beddin'. I got eggs an' fruit an' ..."
"But you said, you said it was too rough for a woman, that it wasn't much of a house, that it only had one room, that it ..."
One hand extended, leaning toward him, brows raised, accusing, she sought for explanation and she saw his face flood with flush, saw his chest fill.
"Well, I lied to you," he said, the lines of his body going suddenly lax as he half turned from her. "It ain't rough. It's a pretty fair outfit."
She dropped her hands until they met before her and a look of offended trust, came into her face, settling the lines about her mouth into an expression of determination.
"But why?" she asked him. "Why should you lie to me and keep me from Ned, my husband? I trusted you; I believed what you said. Why was it, Mr. Bayard?"
He turned on her, eyes burning, color running from his face.
"I'll tell you why, ma'am," he said, chokingly, as though his lungs were too full of air. "I'll tell you: It's because I didn't dare trust myself under th' same roof with you, that's why; it's because I know that if you're around me you'll be ... you'll be in danger."
"No man should tempt himself too far an' 'twould be temptin', if I was to let you come there. You don't know this country. You don't know us men ... men like I am. I don't know your kind of men myself; but we're rough, we're not nice when we want a thing. We haven't got nice manners. I tell you, ma'am, I want to help you all I can, but I've got to look out for myself, you see! Do you see that, ma'am? I thought I could see you now an' then safe enough, but I can't I guess.... This had to come out; it had to!"