ous, might make a mistake and
fall--"

"In love with the wrong man. Yes, I understand; and from his point of
view, if ever I do marry it will undoubtedly be the wrong man."

And the girl finished up with a mirthless laugh.

They stood for some moments in silence. They were both thinking. The
noise from the corrals behind the house reached them. The steady drip,
drip of the water from the melting snow upon the roof of the house
sounded loudly as it fell on the sodden ground beneath.

"Uncle, did it ever strike you that that greasy money-lender wants to
marry me himself?"

The question startled John Allandale more than anything else could have
done. He turned sharply round and faced his niece.

"Marry you, Jacky?" he repeated. "I never thought of it."

"It isn't to be supposed that you would have done so."

There was the faintest tinge of bitterness in the girl's answer.

"And do you really think that he wants to marry you?"

"I don't know quite. Perhaps I am wrong, uncle, and my imagination has
run away with me. Yes, I sometimes think he wants to marry me."

They both relapsed into silence. Then her uncle spoke again.

"Jacky, what you have just said has made something plain to me which I
could not understand before. He came and gave me--unsolicited, mind--"a
little eagerly, "a detailed account of Bunning-Ford's circumstances,
and--"

"Endeavored to bully you into sending him about his business. Poor old
Bill! And what was his account of him?"

The girl's eyes were glowing with quickly-roused passion, but she kept
them turned from her uncle's face.

"He told me that the boy had heavy mortgages on his land and stock. He
told me that if he were to realize to-morrow there would be little or
nothing for himself. Everything would go to some firm in Calford. In
short, that he has gambled his ranch away."

"And he told this to you, uncle, dear." Then the girl paused and looked
far out across the great muskeg. In her abrupt fashion she turned again
to the old man. "Uncle," she went on, "tell me truly, do you owe
anything to Lablache? Has he any hold upon you?"

There was a world of anxiety in her voice as she spoke. John Allandale
tried to follow her thought before he answered. He seemed to grasp
something of her meaning, for in a moment his eyes took on an expression
of pain. Then his words came slowly, as from one who is not sure of what
he is saying.

"I owe him some--money--yes--but--"

"Poker?"

Th