"That animal
is worth a fortune," he continued desperately. "If he escapes, or is
stolen....."
"He won't escape," she said firmly. "This pass leads nowhere: a
dead-end of stone. But that's not what this is about. What you're
showing me now is that you're afraid, terribly afraid to let go. You
think that if you don't go out and take, by force if necessary, then
life will give you nothing, nothing at all. That is a lie which is
cruel to both yourself and others. And if you want anything to do with
me it must stop, here and now."
"How do you know this?" he demanded. "You're only guessing." But he
realized that by his very vehemence he was admitting the truth of what
she said. Already she knew him. Somehow, she knew. He let out a
breath, and said to her simply. "How would you retrieve my horse?"
"By giving him what he needs. By kindness rather than the noose. No,"
she insisted. "I am not speaking of ideals. I will do it, like this."
Without haste she returned to the door of the hut, and went inside.
Her mother sat staring blankly at the fire, though Mary had little
doubt that she had moved there but recently, and had heard, if not
seen, all that had taken place.
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