ence. For the first time she was conscious
of a distressful faintness, which, as she had come suddenly out of the
stinging frost into the little overheated room, which reeked with
tobacco smoke and a stale smell of cooking, was not astonishing. She
mastered it, however, and presently, seeing that Hawtrey did not move;
glanced about her with some curiosity, for this was the first time she
had entered his house.

The room was scantily furnished, and, though very few of the bachelor
farmers in that country live luxuriously, she fancied that Sproatly,
who had evidently very rudimentary ideas on the subject of
house-cleaning, had not brought back all the sundries he had thrown out
into the snow. It then contained a table, a carpenter's bench, and a
couple of chairs, and there were still smears of dust upon the
uncovered floor. The birch-log walls had been rudely panelled with
match-boarding half-way up, which was a somewhat unusual luxury, but
the half-seasoned boards had rent with the heat, and exuded streaks of
resin to which the grime and dust had clung. A pail, which apparently
contained potato peelings, stood amidst a litter of old long boots and
broken harness against one wall, and the floor was black and thick with
grease all round the rusty stove. A pile of unwashed dishes and
cooking utensils stood upon the table, and the lamp above her head had
blackened the boarded ceiling, and diffused a subtle odour of kerosene.

Sally noticed it all with disgust, and then, seeing that Hawtrey had
opened his eyes, she made a cup of coffee and got him to drink it.
After that he smiled at her.

"Thanks," he said feebly. "Where's Sproatly? My side stabs me."

Sally raised one hand. "You're not to say a word. Sproatly's gone for
Watson, and he'll soon fix you up. Now lie quite still, and shut your
eyes again."

The man obeyed her, in so far as that he lay still, but his eyes were
not more than half-closed, and she could not resist the temptation to
see what he would do if she went away. She had half risen, when he
stretched a hand out and felt for her dress, and she sank down again
with a curious softness in her face. Then he let his eyes close
altogether, as if satisfied, and by and bye she gently laid her hand on
his.

He did not appear to notice it, and, though she did not know whether he
was asleep or unconscious, she sat beside him, with compassion in her
eyes. There was no sound but the snapping of the bir