ly, and he leaped out.
"Come, you must go in." He took her in his arms and carried her into the
room, dim, yet gloriously warm by contrast with the outside air. "Feels
good here, doesn't it? Now, while I roll up some blankets, you warm--We
must be quick. I'll find you some overshoes."

Blanche staggered on her numb feet, which felt like clods. She was weak
with cold, and everything grew dark before her.

"Oh, Jim, I can't go on. I'll freeze. I'll die--I know I shall. My feet
are frozen solid."

He dragged a chair to the hearth of the stove, in which a coal fire lay.
His action was bold and confident.

"No, you won't. I'll have you all right in a jiffy. Trouble is, you're
not half dressed. You need woollen underclothing and a new fur cloak.
We'll make it sealskin to pay for this."

He unlaced her shoes and slipped them off, and, while she sobbed with
agony, he rolled her stockings down and took her cold, white feet in his
warm, swift hands. In a few minutes the wrinkles of pain on her face
smoothed out, and a flush came into her cheeks. The tears stood on her
eyelashes. She was like a sorrowing child who forgets its grief in a
quick return of happiness.

Suddenly Rivers stopped and listened. His face grew set and dark with
apprehension. "Here, put your veil back, quick! It's Bailey! Don't
answer him, unless I tell you to."

Outside a clear voice pierced through the wind. It was Bailey speaking
to the horses.

Rivers went on, angrily: "If you'd been half dressed, this wouldn't have
happened. There'll be hell to pay unless I can convince him--"

A hand was laid on the knob and Bailey entered.

"Hello, Jim! I didn't think you'd come out to-day." He eyed the muffled
woman sharply. "Who've you got with you--Mrs. Burke?"

"It don't concern you," Rivers replied. He saw his mistake instantly,
and changed his tone. "Yes, I'm taking her home. Come, Mrs. Burke, we
must be going."

"Wait a minute, Jim," said Bailey. He studied them both carefully.
"Something's wrong here. I feel that. Where are you going, Jim?"

Rivers' wrath flamed out. "None o' your business. Come, Blanche." He
turned to her. His tones betrayed him again.

Bailey faced him, with his back to the door.

"Wait a minute, Jim."

"Get out o' my way."

There was a silence, and in that silence the two men faced each other as
if under some strange light. They seemed alien to each other, yet
familiar, too. Bailey spoke first:

"Jim, I know all about