It was the first time she had used his given name to a third person. It slipped out naturally, and she coloured a trifle, but Sheila did not appear to notice. They breakfasted together, and later sat on the veranda enjoying the perfect morning after the storm. Naturally, they spoke of the events of the preceding day and night. Sheila took a practical view.
"It was lucky Tom McHale wasn't here," she said. "Somebody would have been hurt. That's what I was afraid of."
"It was very brave of you," said Clyde. "I admire you more than I can say. I want you to know it, Miss McCrae."
"Oh, that"--Sheila dismissed the warm praise with a wave of her brown hand--"why, it wasn't anything; only a wet ride in the dark. If my horse had kept his feet it would have been all right. I simply had to come. Don't try to make me think myself a heroine. You'd do the same thing yourself for a friend."
"I'm afraid I couldn't. I'm not much of a rider, and I couldn't have found my way in the dark."
"Well, that's no credit to me. I've been riding all my life, and I know every foot of this country. Of course, I'd do anything for Casey or Tom."
"Yes," said Clyde, "they both think a great deal of you, I know."
"No more than I think of them--especially Casey. Some day I suppose he'll get married, and then I'll have to call him 'Mr. Dunne.'"
"Oh, yes, it will. His wife wouldn't stand for 'Casey.'"
"Yes, she will," said Clyde. Sheila turned and looked at her keenly. "We are going to be married," Clyde added.
"You don't mean it!" Sheila exclaimed. "Well, you are a lucky girl, if you don't mind my saying so. Casey's _white_. I congratulate you with all my heart. And he's lucky, too; yes, he is."
"You--you don't mind?" Clyde ventured. She thought it quite possible that Sheila might care for Casey, although convinced that he did not love her.
"You know I thought once"--Clyde hesitated--"you see you were such great friends----"
"You thought I might be fond of him? Why, so I am. Not in that way, though. I might have been if he had tried to make love to me, but he never did. You see, Miss Burnaby----"
"If you'll call me Sheila. You see, Clyde, Casey and I are too much two of a kind. We'd never get on. You'll idealize him; I'd call him down. He'll talk out of his heart to you; he'd talk irrigation, and crops, and horses to me. You'll accept his judgment in most things as final; I'd want him to take my opinion instead of his own. Oh, we'd make an awful mess of it! And so, my dear, don't you think that I'd want his love, even if I could get it. But at that he's the whitest man I know, and the best friend I ever had. You're lucky. I don't wonder that he fell in love with you, either. I wish to goodness _I_ were as pretty."