nt and I will take two of the guest-bunks in the L. And for
heaven's sake make us some coffee when you make your own. But first
come out and take the horse."

They went out together. Stormont lifted Eve out of the saddle. She did
not wake. Darragh led the way into the log house and along a corridor
to his own room.

"Turn down the sheets," whispered Stormont. And, when the bed was
ready: "Can you get a bath towel, Jim?"

Darragh fetched one from the connecting bath-room.

"Wrap it around her wet hair," whispered Stormont. "Good heavens, I
wish there were a woman here."

"I wish so too," said Darragh; "she's chilled to the bone. You'll have
to wake her. She can't sleep in what she's wearing; it's almost as damp
as her hair----"

He went to the closet and returned with a man's morning robe, as soft as
fleece.

"Somehow or other she's got to get into that," he said.

There was a silence.

"Very well," said Stormont, reddening. ... "If you'll step out I'll --
manage. ..." He looked Darragh straight in the eyes: "I have asked her
to marry me," he said.

* * * * *

When Stormont came out a great fire of birch-logs was blazing in the
living-room, and Darragh stood there, his elbow on the rough stone
mantel-shelf.

Stormont came straight to the fire and set one spurred boot on the
fender.

"She's warm and dry and sound asleep," he said. "I'll wake her again if
you think she ought to swallow something hot."

At that moment the fish-culturist came in with a pot of steaming coffee.

"This is my friend, Ralph Wier," said Darragh. "I think you'd better
give Eve a cup of coffee." And, to Wier, "Fill a couple of hot water
bags, old chap. We don't want any pneumonia in this house."

When breakfast was ready Eve once more lay asleep with a slight dew of
perspiration on her brow.

Darragh was half starved: Stormont ate little. Neither spoke at all
until, satisfied, they rose, ready for sleep.

At the door of his room Stormont took Darragh's offered hand,
understanding what it implied:

"Thanks, Jim. ... Hers is the loveliest character I have ever known. ...
If I weren't as poor as a homeless dog I'd marry her to-morrow. ... I'll
do it anyway, I think. ... I _can't_ let her go back to Clinch's Dump!"

"After all," said Darragh, smiling, "if it's only money that worries
you, why not talk about a job to _me!_"

Stormont flushed heavily: "That's rather wonderful of you, Jim----"

"Why? You're the