They had been of this last hue when she had stood in the sunken garden, forgetting him and crying low: "Oh, if it were mine! If it were mine!" He did not like American women with millions, but while he would not have said that he liked her, he did not wish her yet to move away.

And she, too, did not wish, just yet, to move away.

There was something dramatic and absorbing in the situation.

She looked over the softly stirring grass and saw the sunshine was deepening its gold and the shadows were growing long.

It was not a habit of hers to ask questions, but she asked one.
"Did you not like America ?" was what she said.
"Hated it! Hated it! I went there lured by a belief that a man like myself, with muscle and will, even without experience, could make a fortune out of small capital on a sheep ranch.