her warm, flushed face. Still holding her hands, he pulled her away from the plough to the grassy edge of the field, leaving Hoyle waiting astride the mule.

“Whoa, mule. Stand still thar,” he shrilled, as the beast sought to cross the bit of ploughed ground to reach the grass beyond.

“Let him eat a minute, Hoyle,” said David. “Let him eat until I come. Now, Miss Cassandra, what does this mean? Do you think you can plough all that land? Is that it?”

“I must.”

“You must not.”

“There is no one else now. I must.” He could feel her hands quiver in his, as he forcibly held them, and knew from her panting breath how her