rushings. Just ourselves to ourselves."

"Good."

It was an asset with men--second only to her beauty--this gift for
creating a restful atmosphere.

Her nook, in an angle above the narrow path, was a grassy bank, looking
across crumpled ranges--velvet-soft in the level light--to the still
purity of the snows.

"Rather nice, isn't it?" she said. "I'm not given to mooning out of
doors; but I've spent several evenings here ... lately."

"It's sanctuary," Roy murmured; but his sigh was tinged with
apprehension. Flinging off his hat, he reclined full length on the
gentle slope, hands under his head, and let the healing rays flow into
the deeps of his troubled being.

Rose sat upright beside him, her fingers locked loosely round one raised
knee. She was troubled too, and quite at a loss how to begin.

"So you've not been going out much?" he asked, after a prolonged pause.

"No--how could I--with you, so unhappy, down there--and...."--She
deliberately met his eyes; and the look in them impelled her to ask:
"_What_ is it, Roy--lurking in your mind?"

"Am I--to be frank?"

She shivered. "It sounds--rather chilly. But I suppose we'd better take
our cold plunge--and get it over!"

"Well"--he hesitated palpably. "It was only a natural wonder--if you
care ... all that ... now he's gone, how could you deliberately hurt him
so--while he lived?"

She drew in her lip. It was going to be more unsteadying than she had
foreseen.

"How _can_ a woman explain to a man the simple fact that she is
incurably--perhaps unforgivably--a woman?"

"I don't know. I hoped you could--up to a point," said Roy, looking away
to the snows and remembering, suddenly, _that_ was where he ought to be
now--with Lance--always Lance: no other thought or presence seemed vital
to him, these days. Yet Rose remained beautiful and desirable--and
clearly she loved him.

"It doesn't make things easier, you know," she was saying, in her cool,
low voice, "to feel you are patently regretting events that, unhappily,
did hurt--him; but also--gave me to you...."

Her beauty, her evident pain, penetrated the settled misery that
enveloped him like an atmosphere.

"Darling--forgive me!" He reached out, pulling her hands apart, and his
fingers closed hard on hers. "I'm only trying--clumsily--to
understand...."

"And goodness knows I'm willing to help you," she sighed, returning his
pressure. "But--I'm afraid the little I can say for myself won't do much
to