come up here at all,
unless I come to bring you something to eat."

"I don't want," she hesitated, "to put her out."

"Nan? You don't put her out. She only came because she didn't find me at
the house. If you don't do precisely what I tell you, that'll be putting
everybody out. I shall make an awful row. Do you hear me?"

She smiled, a little flicker of a smile. She might not like to be
pursued by jealousy incarnate, but she was, he saw, rather amused at
being fraternally tyrannized over.

"Now," he said, "I'm going. You're to stand here in your tracks, and
when I've sent Nan down the path I'll come and get you."

He gave her no time to object, but went back to the hut, and in to
solitude and a deadening fire. He threw open the door of the other room,
though Nan would surely not be there, and swore at not finding her.
Womenfolk were giving him a good deal of trouble with their exits and
their entrances. He mended the fire, snatched up his cap and gloves and
went out again, up the path to Tira. She was standing motionless
precisely, he thought, in the tracks where he had left her, and the
Buddhistic child indifferently regarded him.

"Come on," Raven called to her, stopping at a pace from them. "She's on
her way down along, and there's a good fire."

She started obediently after him and Raven, though he saw in her
slowness the hesitating desire to express her distaste for putting any
one out, paid no attention but went on ahead and opened the door.

"Keep up the fire," he bade her. "I'll be back along about one and bring
you something to eat. The little chap, too. We mustn't forget him."

She had stepped inside and he was about closing the door; but she turned
and seemed to recover her attitude of protest.

"No," she said, "don't you bring up anything. I shall be gone long 'fore
then."

"Why, no, you won't," said Raven impatiently. "You're not going back
into that----" he paused, seeking a word that should not offend her. She
had clung to incredible loyalties. Perhaps she even clung to her home.

"Oh," she said earnestly, "it'll be over by then, an' he'll want his
dinner."

Tenney would want his dinner! He had no words for that. He turned away.
But she seemed to feel the finality of his going. Was he giving her up?
She put the child down on the couch and turned to follow. Raven was just
closing the door.

"Don't!" she cried. There was piercing entreaty in her voice. "Don't!"

It was really begging him n