d. "They've gone over to Elliot's for
supper. He's bringing us a package."

Hawtrey, who explained that he had got it, let her hands go, and sat
down somewhat limply. He had come suddenly out of the bitter frost
into the little, brightly-lighted, stove-warmed room. In another few
moments, however, the comfort and cheeriness of it appealed to him.

"This looks very cosy after my desolate room at the Range," he said.

"Then if you'll stay I'll make you supper. I suppose there's nothing
to take you home?"

"No," said Hawtrey, with a significant glance at her, "there certainly
isn't, Sally. As a matter of fact, I often wish there was."

He saw her sudden uncertainty, which was, however, not tinged with
embarrassment, and feeling that he had gone far enough in the meanwhile
he went out to put up his team. When he came back there was a cloth on
the table, and Sally was busy about the stove. He sat down and watched
her attentively. In some respects, he thought, she compared favourably
with Agatha. She had a nicely moulded figure, and a curious lithe
gracefulness of carriage which was suggestive of a strong vitality,
while Agatha's bearing was usually characterised by a certain rather
frigid repose. This and the latter's general manner had a somewhat
inciting effect on him when he was in her presence, but he now and then
remembered it afterwards with resentment. Then Sally's face was at
least as comely in a different way, and there was no reserve in it.
She was what he thought of as human, frankly flesh and blood. Her
quick smile was, as a rule, provocative, and never chilled one as
Agatha's quiet glances sometimes did.

"Sally," he said, "you've grown prettier than ever."

The girl turned partly round towards him with a slow, sinuous movement
that he found seductively graceful.

"Now," she said, "you oughtn't to say those things to me."

Hawtrey laughed; he was usually sure of his ground with Sally.

"Why shouldn't I, when it's just what you are?"

"For one thing, Miss Ismay wouldn't like it."

The man's face hardened. "I'm not sure she'd mind. Anyway, Miss Ismay
doesn't like a good many things I'm in the habit of doing."

Sally, who had watched him closely, turned away again, but a little
thrill of exultation ran through her. It had been with dismay she had
first heard him speak of his marriage, which was, perhaps, not
altogether astonishing, and she had fled home in an agony of anger and
humili