clutching at his imagination,
taking liberties with his sense of identity. He had just about reached
the conclusion that it was all a mistake about his being anybody in
particular, when a shot rang out and reminded him that he was, at any
rate, ravenously hungry.

Five minutes later he had washed his hands at the toy sink of a toy
kitchen and was seated at a snowy table on the little veranda, partaking
of a mutton stew which seemed a dish fit for the gods.

It had been something of a shock to Sir Bryan to find places laid for
only two. He had never before enjoyed a _tete-a-tete_ meal with a young
lady, and it was some minutes before he could rid his mind of the
impression that an irate chaperon was about to appear from behind the
boulder, or, for the matter of that, from the depths of the earth
itself. His recent experience of the difficulty of penetrating the
surface of the earth might have given him a sense of security in that
direction, had he not cherished an exaggerated opinion of the prowess of
the traditional chaperon in thwarting the pleasures of the young. The
comeliness, too, of his hostess led him, by inference, to suppose that
the chaperon in question would prove to be of a peculiarly vicious and
aggressive type. No such apparition came, however, to disturb his
satisfaction, and he gradually came to believe in the lawfulness of the
situation. His face may have betrayed something of the questionings
which were racking his mind, for the self-possessed Kathleen, after
heaping his plate with stew for the second time, gave him an
elder-sisterly look, and said: "Mr. Bryan, you are such a very discreet
young man, that I believe I will answer all the questions you are dying
to ask."

Sir Bryan blushed, as he always hated himself for doing, and the
nut-brown maid continued:

"Yes, I live here all alone. I am taking up a claim. No. Nobody molests
me, and I get on beautifully. Sometimes my friends come up and spend a
few days with me, but not often. Comrag and I do the marketing once or
twice a week. I've got a lovely cool cellar up against the boulder under
the house."

All this she said like a child repeating a lesson she has learned by
rote, which the teacher wants to hear, but which the child finds rather
uninteresting. But Sir Bryan listened as if it had been the most
exciting tale he had ever heard. Thus encouraged she proceeded with the
dry statement of facts.

"I've only got to stay here a month longer