She wondered
whether the solemn bell that once called its flock to worship had
become as mute as her own dead heart. She did not hear the whirr
of the great machine inside the tent, as it plunged through space
with its girl occupant. These things were a part of the daily
routine, part of the strange, vague dream through which she must
stumble for the rest of her life.
Jim watched her in silence. Her face was turned from him. She
had forgotten his presence.
"Star gazin', Poll?" he asked at length, dreading to disturb her
revery.
"I guess I was, Jim." She turned to him with a little, forced
smile. He longed to save her from Barker's threatened rebuke.
"How yer feelin' to-night?"
"I'm all right," she answered, cheerfully
"Anythin' yer want?"
"Want?" she turned upon him with startled eyes. There was so
much that she wanted, that the mere mention of the word had
opened a well of pain in her heart.
"I mean, can I do anythin' for you?"
"Oh, of course not." She remembered how little ANY ONE could do.
"What is it, Poll?" he begged; but she only turned away and shook
her head with a sigh. He followed her with anxious eyes. "What
made yer cut out the show to-day? Was it because you didn't want
ter ride afore folks what knowed yer? Ride afore HIM, mebbe?"
"HIM?" Her face was white.
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