ntly, a
whirl of pleasure from morning till night.

They talked very disconnectedly; in the middle of recounting his future
joys, Winn said:

"And then if anything was to happen to me, you know, I hope you'd think
better of it and marry Lionel."

Claire did not promise to marry Lionel, but she implied that even
without marriage she, like Winn, was about to pass into an existence
studded with resources and amusements; and then she added:

"And if you were to die, or I was, Miss Marley could help us to see each
other just at the last. I asked her about it." Despite their future
happiness, they seemed to draw more solid satisfaction out of this final
privilege.

The last ten minutes they hardly talked at all. Every now and then Winn
wanted to know if Claire's feet were warm, and Claire asked him to let
her have a photograph of Peter.

Then Maurice came out of the hotel, and a tailing party stood in the
open doorway and wondered if it was going to snow. The sleigh drove up
to the hotel, jingling in the gayest manner, with pawing horses. Winn
walked across the courtyard with her and nodded to Maurice; and Maurice
allowed Winn to tuck Claire up, because, after he'd looked at Winn's
eyes, it occurred to him that he couldn't do anything else.

Winn reduced the hall porter, a magnificent person in gold lace, with an
immense sense of dignity, to gibbering terror before the lift-boy and
the boots because he had failed to supply the sleigh with a sufficiently
hot foot-warmer.

Finally even Winn was satisfied that there was nothing more to eat or to
wear which the sleigh could be induced to hold or Claire agree to want.
He stood aside then, and told the man briefly to be off. The driver, who
did not understand English, understood perfectly what Winn meant, and
hastened to crack his whip.

Claire looked back and saw Winn, bare-headed, looking after her. His
eyes were like a mother's eyes when she fights in naked absorption
against the pain of her child.

He went on looking like that for a long while after the sleigh had
disappeared. Then he put on his cap and started off up the valley toward
Pontresina.

It had already begun to snow. The walk to Pontresina is the coldest and
darkest of winter walks, and the snow made it heavy going. Winn got very
much out of breath, and his chest hurt him. Every now and then he
stopped and said to himself, "By Jove! I wonder if I'm going to be ill?"
But as he always pushed on afterward