was evidence of the guile he had detected in her,
convincing him that she thought him desirable, and that she had decided
to win him.

But vanity in Lawler had long since been ruthlessly overwhelmed by the
serious business of life. He had never had time--in his later years--to
yield to the fatuous imaginings of youth. He had lived a rough, hard
life, in which values were computed by the rule of sheer worth--a life
that had taught him that performance, and not appearances, must be the
standard by which all men and women must ultimately be judged.

Lawler was not flattered by Della Wharton's feminine blandishments. He
was grimly amused--when he was not disgusted; though he continued to
treat her with the utmost courtesy and gentleness, trying to keep her
from divining his emotions.

Also, he had tried to lessen the dread monotony that encompassed them.
There was nothing they could do. Beyond the mechanical tasks of eating,
or of cooking and sleeping, of plunging outside to the water hole for
water, or of caring for the horses and bringing wood for the fire, there
was no diversion except that of talking. And, as the days dragged and
the storm did not abate, even talking began to irk Lawler. There would
be periods during which they would be silent, listening to the howling
and moaning of the wind--hours at a stretch when the cold outside would
seem to threaten, to tighten its constricting circle, when a great awe
oppressed them; when it seemed that the whole world was snowbound, and
that it would keep piling over and around them and all life would be
extinct.

It was on the morning of the tenth day that Lawler began to notice that
the dread monotony and the white, ever-present menace were beginning to
affect the girl. Her face was white and in her eyes was a haunting gleam
of fear. He noted how she clasped her hands; how she nervously twined
and untwined her fingers, and how she kept pushing her chair toward him,
as though for protection.

A swift sympathy seized him; he laughed, lowly, reaching out a hand and
laying it lightly on her shoulder as she started at the sound of his
voice and drew a quick, startled breath.

"Oh!" she said; "will it never end?"

"It can't last much longer, Miss Wharton," he smiled. "It has held on
longer, now, than it should at this season."

The sound of his voice reassured her--it was calm, quiet, confident.
Some color came back into her face, and she smiled.

"I believe I was beginn