he seas we have come across, and the sting of icebergs. Ugh:
my face feels like nettles!"

She rubbed her cheeks with her two hands, and then held up one hand to
Philip.

"Look," she said. "It's as rough as sand-paper. Isn't that a change? I
didn't even wear gloves on the ship. I'm an enthusiast. I'm going down
there with you, and I'm going to fight. Now have you got anything to
say against me, Mr. Philip?"

There was a lightness in her words, and yet not in her voice. In her
manner was an uneasiness, mingled with an almost childish eagerness for
him to answer, which Philip could not understand. He fancied that once
or twice he had caught the faintest sign of a break in her voice.

"You really mean to hazard this adventure?" he cried, softly, in his
astonishment. "You, whom wild horses couldn't drag into the wilderness,
as you once told me!"

"Yes," she affirmed, drawing her stool back out of the increasing heat
of the fire. Her face was almost entirely in shadow now, and she did
not look at Philip. "I am beginning to--to love adventure," she went
on, in an even voice. "It was an adventure coming up. And when we
landed down there something curious happened. Did you see a girl who
thought that she knew me--"

She stopped, and a sudden flash of the fire lit up her eyes, fixed on
him intently from between her shielding hands.

"I saw her run out and speak to you," said Philip, his heart beating at
double-quick. He leaned over so that he was looking squarely into Miss
Brokaw's face.

"Did you know her?" she asked.

"I have seen her only twice--once before she spoke to you."

"If I meet her again I shall apologize," said Eileen. "It was her
mistake, and she startled me. When she ran out to me like that, and
held out her hands I--I thought of beggars."

"Beggars!" almost shouted Philip. "A beggar!" He caught himself with a
laugh, and to cover his sudden emotion turned to lay a fresh piece of
birch on the fire. "We don't have beggars up here."

The door opened behind them and Brokaw entered. Philip's face was red
when he greeted him. For half an hour after that he cursed himself for
not being as clever as Gregson. He knew that there was a change in
Eileen Brokaw, a change which nature had not worked alone, as she
wished him to believe. Then, and at supper, he tried to fathom her. At
times he detected the metallic ring of what was unreal and make-believe
in what she said; at other times she seemed stirred by emot