ssly through him. It seemed to him as if
he could have outpaced a Scotch express.

He carried the ball off again and again out of the mob of his
assailants. They scattered under his rushes like creatures made of
cardboard. He offered three goals and shot one. The cheering of the St.
Moritzers sounded in his ears as if it were a long way off. He saw the
disappointed, friendly grin of little Mavorovitch as the last whistle
settled the match at five goals to four against Davos, but everything
seemed cloudy and unreal. He heard Mavorovitch say:

"Spooner never told us he had a dark horse over here. I must say I am
disappointed. Until half-time I thought I should get the better of you;
but how did you get that devilish spurt on? Fierce pace tires, but you
were easier to tire when you began."

Winn's eyes wandered over the little man beside him.

"Oh, I don't know," he said good-naturedly; he had never in his life
felt so good-natured. "I suppose I thought we were getting beaten. That
rather braces one up, doesn't it?"

"Ah, that is you English all over," laughed Mavorovitch. "We have a
saying, 'In all campaigns the English lose many battles, but they always
win one--namely, the last.'"

"I'm sure it's awfully jolly of you to say so," said Winn. "You play a
pretty fine game yourself, you know, considerably more skill in it than
mine. I had no idea you were not English yourself."

Mavorovitch seemed to swim away into a mist of laughter, people receded,
the bank receded; at last he stood before her. Winn thought she was a
little thinner in the face and her eyes were larger than ever. He could
not take his own away from her; he had no thoughts, and he forgot to
speak.

Everybody was streaming off to tea. The rink was deserted; it lay a
long, gray shadow beneath the high, white banks. The snow had begun to
fall, light, dry flakes that rested like powder on Claire's curly hair.
She waited for him to speak; but as he still said nothing, she asked
with a sudden dimple:

"Where does this path lead to?"

Then Winn recollected himself, and asked her if she didn't want some
tea. Claire shook her head.

"Not now," she said decidedly; "I want to go along this path."

Winn obeyed her silently. The path took them between dark fir-trees to
the farthest corner of the little park. Far below them a small stream
ran into the lake, it was frozen over, but in the silence they could
hear it whispering beneath the ice. The world was a