A crutch, with a silver handle, stood by her side, proving the state of extreme debility to which she was reduced. "My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. “I mean REALLY independent. "My little Hoddy! You used to love me; and I have always loved you. As if we didn’t know! The practical trouble is our ages. “I think,” she said, “that I rather like what you have said. You mustn’t go clawing after a man that doesn’t belong to you—that isn’t even interested in you. It'll be in your way.
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