ard and again she said to
herself--"_No!_"

She made some other preparations for supper. She had those things to do
herself now. The Chinaman Ted had brought home with him in the fall had
left in December. He had appeared before her ready for leaving and had
calmly said, "Cold here, missis. And too all alone. Me go where more
others are." She had said nothing at all in reply to him, in protest,
too held by what he had said--"Cold here, and too all alone!" She had
stood at the window and watched him going up the road toward town, going
where "more others" were.

She went back now into their main room; it was both living and dining
room these days, for since the extreme cold had fastened on them they
had abandoned their two little upstairs bedrooms and taken for sleeping
the room which in summer was used as living-room. That could be heated a
little by leaving the door open, and it had seemed out of the question
to go to bed in those upstairs rooms where the cold had been left
untouched. Since they had been doing their own work all extra things had
had to be cut down; an upstairs fire would mean more work, and it seemed
there was already more work than Ruth could get done and have time for
anything else. She was tired all the time these days; she would think
during the day of the good time she was going to have with a book that
evening, and then night would find her so tired she could scarcely keep
awake, and she would huddle there before the fire, dreading the cold of
the night.

Life had reduced itself to necessities; things had to be ruthlessly
rearranged for meeting conditions. She loved her own room to sleep in.
She needed it. But she had given that up because it was too cold,
because she could not do any more work. There was something that made
her cringe in the thought of their sharing a bed, not because of love of
being together, but because of the necessity of fighting the cold. And
it made crowded quarters downstairs. She began "picking up" the room
now. Things were piled up on the sewing machine, on the reading table.
It seemed impossible to keep them put away. She tried hard to keep the
room an attractive place to sit in, but it was in disorder, uninviting,
most of the time. Often, after doing the kitchen work, she would clean
it all up with the idea of making it attractive to sit in, then would be
too utterly tired to enjoy it. She lagged in putting things away now;
she would stand holding them helplessly,