t a frank hand and looked
him over keenly. She was a fair-featured, blondish woman, originally
not unpleasing of appearance, but now with lines all deepened and
hardened as on the faces of men who have endured much weather-beat.

Congratulating himself upon his social proficiency, Jake Cornell
cleared his throat and marshalled the second woman to the front. "Mr.
Corliss, the Virgin; I make you both acquainted. Hem!" in response to
the query in Vance's eyes--"Yes, the Virgin. That's all, just the
Virgin."

She smiled and bowed, but did not shake hands. "A toff" was her secret
comment upon the engineer; and from her limited experience she had been
led to understand that it was not good form among "toffs" to shake
hands.

Corliss fumbled his hand, then bowed, and looked at her curiously. She
was a pretty, low-browed creature; darkly pretty, with a well-favored
body, and for all that the type was mean, he could not escape the charm
of her over-brimming vitality. She seemed bursting with it, and every
quick, spontaneous movement appeared to spring from very excess of red
blood and superabundant energy.

"Pretty healthy proposition, ain't she?" Jake Cornell demanded,
following his host's gaze with approval.

"None o' your gammon, Jake," the Virgin snapped back, with lip curled
contemptuously for Vance's especial benefit. "I fancy it'd be more in
keeping if you'd look to pore Blanche, there."

"Fact is, we're plum ding dong played out," Jake said. "An' Blanche
went through the ice just down the trail, and her feet's like to
freezin'."

Blanche smiled as Corliss piloted her to a stool by the fire, and her
stern mouth gave no indication of the pain she was suffering. He
turned away when the Virgin addressed herself to removing the wet
footgear, while Bishop went rummaging for socks and moccasins.

"Didn't go in more'n to the ankles," Cornell explained confidentially;
"but that's plenty a night like this."

Corliss agreed with a nod of the head.

"Spotted your light, and--hem--and so we come. Don't mind, do you?"

"Why, certainly not--"

"No intrudin'?"

Corliss reassured him by laying hand on his shoulder and cordially
pressing him to a seat. Blanche sighed luxuriously. Her wet stockings
were stretched up and already steaming, and her feet basking in the
capacious warmth of Bishop's Siwash socks. Vance shoved the tobacco
canister across, but Cornell pulled out a handful of cigars and passed
them a