if you would accept the fact tacitly."

Maud Barrington would not have shivered if she could have avoided it,
but the cold was too great for her, and she did not know whether she
was vexed or pleased at the gleam of compassion in the man's gray eyes.
It was more eloquent than anything of the kind she had ever seen, but
it had gone, and he was only quietly deferent, when she glanced at him
again.

"I will endeavor to be good," she said, and then flushed with annoyance
at the adjective. Half-dazed by the cold as she was, she could not
think of a more suitable one. Winston, however, retained his gravity.

"Now, Macdonald gave you no supper, and he has dinner at noon," he
said. "I brought some eatables along, and you must make the best meal
you can."

He opened a packet, and laid it with a little silver flask upon her
knee.

"I cannot eat all this--and it is raw spirit," said Maud Barrington.

Winston laughed. "Are you not forgetting your promise? Still, we will
melt a little snow into the cup."

An icy gust swept in when he opened the door, and it was only by a
strenuous effort he closed it again, while when he came back panting
with the top of the flask a little color crept into Maud Barrington's
face. "I am sorry," she said. "That at least is your due."

"I really don't want my due," said Winston, with a deprecatory gesture,
as he laid the silver cup upon the stove. "Can't we forget we are not
exactly friends, just for to-night? If so, you will drink this and
commence at once on the provisions--to please me."

Maud Barrington was glad of the reviving draught, for she was very
cold, but presently she held out the packet.

"One really cannot eat many crackers at once, will you help me?"

Winston laughed as he took one of the biscuits. "If I had expected any
one would share my meal, I would have provided a better one. Still, I
have been glad to feast upon more unappetizing things occasionally."

"When were you unfortunate?" said the girl.

Winston smiled somewhat dryly. "I was unfortunate for six years on
end."

He was aware of the blunder when he had spoken, but Maud Barrington
appeared to be looking at the flask thoughtfully.

"The design is very pretty," she said. "You got it in England?"

The man knew that it was the name F. Winston his companion's eyes
rested on, but his face was expressionless. "Yes," he said. "It is
one of the things they make for presentation in the old country."