at the sex instinct, so ready with its
antagonisms, its insinuations, its alternate attacks and defenses, was
atrophied as in the presence of a phenomenon. She was modern enough,
God knows, but she had some delicacy at least and was impotent before
the splendor of Jerry's innocence.

What they said on the way to the cabin must have been unimportant. I
suppose Jerry told her about his routine at the Manor and something of
what I had taught him of woodcraft, but I think that she was very
reticent in speaking of herself. No doubt her unceremonious visit to
our domain and the unusual intimacy of their conversation had made it
seem necessary to her to preserve her incognito, or perhaps it was
coquetry, which no woman, however placed, is quite without. As far as
I have been able to learn, they were as two children, the girl's mind
as well as her actions, in spite of her sophistication, reflecting the
artlessness of her companion. The damage that she had done, as I was
afterwards to discover, was mainly by the force of suggestion. She
assumed the absurd premises of modernity, drew her own preposterous
conclusions and Jerry drank them in, absorbed them as he did all
information, like a sponge.

CHAPTER VI

THE CABIN

Having decided upon a course of action, I lost no time in setting
forth, following the Sweetwater to the wall and then, not finding
Jerry, making as though by instinct for the cabin. Perhaps I may be
pardoned for approaching the place with cautious footsteps. I was
justified, I think, by the anxiety of the moment and the fear of a
damage that might be irreparable. I am sure that the somber shade of
old John Benham guided me upon my way and made light my footsteps as I
crept through the bushes and peered through the window of the cabin.

There upon the floor, before the hearth, in which some fagots were
burning, sat Jerry and the minx, as thick as thieves, oblivious of the
fall of night, wrapped in their own conversation and in themselves. I
am willing to admit that the girl was pretty, though from the glimpses
I had of it, her profile gave no suggestion of the classical ideals of
beauty, for her nose made a short line far from regular and her hair,
though carelessly dressed, was worn, in some absurd modern fashion
with which I was unfamiliar. And yet in a general way I may say that
there seemed to be no doubt as to her comeliness. She was quite small
and crouched as she was upon the floor before the f