She could ride and ride--until the future, like the immensity of the desert there, might swallow her.

She changed her clothes and rested a while.

The call to supper found her hungry.

In this fact she discovered mockery of her grief.

Love was not the food of life.
Exhausted nature's need of rest and sleep was no respecter of a woman's emotion.
Next day Carley rode northward, wildly and fearlessly, as if this conscious activity was the initiative of an endless number of rides that were to save her.