"You will know me better presently, Mr. Almayne," she replied. "I shall make it my pleasure te teach you something about women."
He glanced at her sharply, and rode on without rejoinder. An hour later she heard the voice of a man singing somewhere ahead of them, and the neighing of horses; and Lachlan, riding abreast of her, said, "It is the camp—Jock Pearson's camp. You can rest and sleep."
She turned toward him slowly, and he saw with surprise that her face was very white.
"I am glad," she whispered. "I think I could not have ridden much farther."
She swayed suddenly in her saddle. For a moment her body leaned against his, her hair brushing his cheek. With his arm about her shoulders, he steadied her, kept her from falling; but almost at once she seemed to recover her strength and drew away from him, sitting upright as her horse walked forward, a slim, straight figure, head high, shoulders back. Lachlan realized with vague astonishment that he was trembling like a reed in the wind.
