to
the darkness. A long way off she thought she could distinguish a light,
but she could not be certain.

"I'll give you a hand with the trunk," called Sharp, laboriously
climbing out of the wagon. "Woa there," as the mare pawed restlessly on
the ground.

"I'll come and help you if you'll wait a bit. Come on in, Nora."

Nora hunted round among the numerous parcels underneath the seat until
she found a meshed bag containing some bread, butter and other
necessaries they had bought on the way to the station. Then she walked
slowly up the path to her home.

She had the feeling that she was still a free agent as long as she
remained outside. Once her foot had crossed the threshold----! It was
like getting into an ice-cold bath. She dreaded the plunge. However, it
must be taken. He was standing stock-still in the middle of the room as
she reached the door, his heavy brows drawn together.

"I'm quite stiff after that long drive."

The moment the words were out of her mouth she wished to recall them.
This was no way to begin. It was actually as if she had been trying to
excuse herself for not coming more quickly when she was called. His
whole attitude of frowning impatience showed that he had expected her to
come at the sound of his voice. His face cleared at once.

"Are you cold?" he asked with a certain anxiety.

"No, not a bit; I was so well wrapped up."

"Well, it's freezing pretty hard. But, you see, it's your first winter
and you won't feel the cold like we do?"

"How odd," said Nora. "I'll just bring some of the things in." She had
an odd feeling that she didn't want to be alone with him just now, and
said the first thing that entered her head.

"Don't touch the trunk, it's too heavy for you."

"Oh, I'm as strong as a horse."

"Don't _touch_ it."

"I won't," she laughed.

He brushed by her and went on out to the rig, returning almost instantly
with an arm full of parcels.

"We could all do with a cup of tea. Just have a look at the stove. It
won't take two shakes to light a fire."

"It seems hardly worth while; it's so late."

"Oh, light the fire, my girl, and don't talk about it," he said
good-humoredly.

On her knees before the stove, with her face as flushed as if it were
already glowing, Nora raked away at the ashes. Through the open doorway
she could see her husband and Mr. Sharp unfasten the trunk from the back
of the wagon and start with it toward the house.

"This trunk of yours ain't w