THE WINDOW OF THE SPHINX
She bit her lip. "All women are different."
"Some are exceptional. It was very kind of you to get up at such an hour, and that was a very good breakfast." He gathered up his guns and his hat and stepped out upon the side veranda. He thought she had taken her dismissal. He had a notion there was a flutter of red and white petticoat behind him as he went down the wagon track, and thought it was because that red and white was somehow getting fixed in his stubborn fancy; but when he reached the stable, he saw she was indeed still with him.
"I only wanted to say," she explained, evidently because his rather grim expression suggested that she needed an explanation, "that you would better take my pony. He is used to the rocks. Nothing can hurt him or lose him in the mountains. He knows all the trails."
She was more thoughtful of him certainly than other women he had known, and not at all insistent upon her own presence. She stood in silence during the more exacting preliminaries of saddling. Then, as he began shortening stirrups, she spoke. "When you get back tonight, if you care to and are not too tired, I will take you over to the largest pine, 'The Witch's Spindle' and show you what I mean by the high tide of night."
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