He saw Carley. Then--no matter how
unreasonable or exacting had been Carley's longings, they were satisfied.
"You!" he cried, and leaped at her with radiant face.
Carley not only did not care about the spectators of this meeting, but
forgot them utterly. More than the joy of seeing Glenn, more than the all-
satisfying assurance to her woman's heart that she was still beloved,
welled up a deep, strange, profound something that shook her to her depths.
It was beyond selfishness. It was gratitude to God and to the West that had
restored him.
"Carley! I couldn't believe it was you," he declared, releasing her from
his close embrace, yet still holding her.
"Yes, Glenn--it's I--all you've left of me," she replied, tremulously, and
she sought with unsteady hands to put up her dishevelled hair. "You--you big
sheep herder! You Goliath!"
"I never was so knocked off my pins," he said. "A lady to see me--from New
York! . . . Of course it had to be you. But I couldn't believe. Carley, you
were good to come."
Somehow the soft, warm look of his dark eyes hurt her. New and strange
indeed it was to her, as were other things about him. Why had she not come
West sooner? She disengaged herself from his hold and moved away, striving
for the composure habitual with her.
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