ld herself that she loathed all
mankind. She accused him of heartlessness, of lack of understanding, of
brutal lack of sympathy. He and he alone was responsible for
everything--that vague, terrible _everything_. He sat there as still as
a rooted tree; he bulked big through the gloom like a rugged boulder; he
was a part of this wild land, as indifferent, as cold, as merciless.
The thought now that he might come to her made her quake with fear; she
was afraid of him.

If she could only sleep! No sleep to-night, little the night before,
less the night before that. No wonder her brain swirled. If all this had
happened at any other time--She was a bundle of nerves--nerves that
vibrated at the slightest suggestion. She was going to be ill. Perhaps
the end of it would be that she would die. All of the misshapen,
monstrous fancies which are bred of a sleepless and nervous night made
for her a period of such stress that as the hours wore on they blanched
her cheeks and put dark shadows under her eyes and taunted her with
longings for a rest which they denied her.

Thus, in the stern grips of their destinies, Mark King and Gloria lived
through the night, two uncertain spirits awaiting the light of day. And
thus their brains, those finite organs upon which mankind entrusts the
ordering of great events, prepared themselves for the moment when they
must grapple with and decide a matter of supreme moment. And all night
the wind, like a hateful voice, jeered.

* * * * *

At four o'clock that chill, wind-blown morning King began the day. He
saw that Gloria was awake and sitting up, looking straight ahead of her.
He gave no sign of having noted her, but busied himself in a swift,
silent sort of way with fire-building and breakfast preparation. Gloria,
in turn, saw him; she experienced aloof wonder at the look on his face.
He was haggard; his mouth was set and hard.

She had thought to be thankful when daylight came. Now she got up and
went to the fire, rubbing her cold hands together, looking at an
awakened world with dull, lack-lustre eyes. It was not yet full day;
what light filtered down here into this sheltered spot was cheerless; as
it drew forest details out of the thinning shadows it seemed to be
painting them in cold grey monotones upon a cold grey world.

He and she, when he came back with an arm-load of wood, looked straight
into each other's eyes, long and soberly, searchingly and hopeless