n up there?" she queried.

Winton stopped to think. "I don't know--a week, possibly."

"Yet if you had not been coming here every evening, you or Mr. Adams
would have found time to go--to watch every possible chance of
interference, wouldn't you?"

"Perhaps. That was one of the risks I took, a part of the price-paying
I spoke of. If anything had happened, I should still be unrepentant."

"Something _has_ happened. While you have been taking things for
granted, Uncle Somerville has been at work day and night. He has built
a track right across yours in that little valley, and he keeps a train
of cars or something, filled with armed men, standing there all the
time!"

Winton gave a low whistle. Then he laughed mirthlessly.

"You are quite sure of this?" he asked. "There is no possibility of
your being mistaken?"

"None at all," she replied. "And I can only defend myself by saying
that I didn't know about it until a few minutes ago. What is to be
done? But stop; you needn't tell me. I am not worthy of your
confidence."

"You are; you have just proved it. But there isn't anything to be
done. The next thing in order is the exit of one John Winton in
disgrace. That spur track and engine means a crossing fight which can
be prolonged indefinitely, with due vigilance on the part of Mr.
Darrah's mercenaries. I'm smashed, Miss Carteret, thoroughly and
permanently. Ah, well, it's only one more fool for love. Hadn't we
better go in? You'll take cold standing out here."

She drew herself up and put her hands behind her.

"Is that the way you take it, Mr. Winton?"

The acrid laugh came again.

"Would you have me tear a passion to tatters? My ancestors were not
French."

Trying as the moment was, she could not miss her opportunity.

"How can you tell when you don't know your grandfather's middle name?"
she said, half crying.

His laugh at this was less acrid. "Adams again? My grandfather had no
middle name. But I mustn't keep you out here in the cold talking
genealogies."

His hand was on the door to open it for her. Like a flash she came
between, and her fingers closed over his on the door-knob.

"Wait," she said. "Have I done all this--humbled myself into the very
dust--to no purpose?"

"Not if you will give me the one priceless word I am thirsting for."

"Oh, how shameless you are!" she cried. "Will nothing serve to arouse
the better part of you?"

"There is no better part of any man than his love for a wom