Hard realities ?You are strong, Lucinda . . . a real outdoor girl,? he said to her. ?You could run a farm like this if you had to. But despite your cleverness, you have a luxurious side. You never were meant to work hard. You should have the things you?ve been brought up to. Without these, you will suffer. Oh, you are game, Lucinda Baker, and you?d go through with anything you undertook. But do you really want to be a frontiersman?s wife?? ?I think so. I must want to, since I have consented.? ?But you know what it means?? ?Oh, I guess . . . not really.? ?Well, my dear, I do know. Lucinda, homesteading, ranching out in the West is something no sensitive, well-bred girl would ever have undertaken, if she had known beforehand. Loneliness! Nearest neighbor a day?s ride or more! Wild animals . . . Indians . . .rustlers! Living under the most primitive conditions! Work from daybreak until long after dark! No rest! No comfort! No amusement! Alone in your log cabin while Logan is away somewhere. Sometimes alone for days while he drives to town for supplies. Heat, cold, dirt, wind. Babies would come, inevitably. No doctor! Perhaps only a neighbor woman, if you were lucky. The care . . . the responsibility while all the time work goes on. Lucinda, all that doesn?t do it justice. True, the West gives you a thrill, the adventure of it, the romance. But for you a ghastly. . . .? He stopped when he saw how white her face had become.