thers.
It is, as you say, the North--the crushing, terrible, alluring
North--in whose primitive creed a good man does not mean a moral one,
but one who accomplishes his purpose, even though that purpose be bad.
End, and not means, is the ethics of the lean, lone land, where human
life sinks into insignificance, beneath the immutable law of savage
might."

His eyes burned as he gazed down into the upturned face of the girl.
His hands stole lightly from the chair back and rested upon her
shoulder. For one long, intense moment, their eyes held, and then,
with a movement as swift and lithe as the spring of a panther, the man
was upon his knees beside her chair, his arms were about her, and with
no thought of resistance, Chloe felt herself drawn close against his
breast, felt the wild beating of his heart, and then--his lips were
upon hers, and she felt herself struggling feebly against the embrace
of the sinewy arms.

Only for a moment did Lapierre hold her. With a movement as sudden and
impulsive as the movement that embraced her, the arms were withdrawn,
and the man leaped swiftly to his feet. Too dazed to speak, Chloe sat
motionless, her brain in a chaotic whirl of emotion, while in her
breast outraged dignity and hot, fierce anger strove for the mastery
over a thrill, so strange to her, so new, so intense that it stirred
her to the innermost depths of her being.

Swiftly, unconsciously, her glance rested for a moment upon the lean,
bearded face of MacNair; and beside her chair, Lapierre noted the
glance, and the thin lips twisted into a smile--a cynical, sardonic
smile, that faded on the instant, as his eyes flashed toward the
doorway. For there, silent and grim as he had seen her once before,
stood Big Lena, whose china-blue eyes were fixed upon him, in that same
disconcerting, fishlike stare.

The hot blood mounted to his cheeks and suddenly receded, so that his
face showed pallid and pasty in the gloom of the darkened room. He
drew his hand uncertainly across his brow and found it damp with a
cold, moist sweat. Was it fancy, or did the china-blue, fishlike eyes
rest for just an instant upon the porcelain cup on the table? With an
effort the man composed himself, and stooping, whispered a few hurried
words into the ears of the girl who sat with her face buried in her
hands.

"Forgive me, Miss Elliston; for the moment I forgot that I had no
right. I love you! Love you more than life itself! More than m