ght, no matter how innocently the thing had come about, was
unwise--unfair, especially to her. Gossip in these little winter resorts
was worse than in a provincial town. He hoped no one had seen them.
Luckily the night had been dark. Most likely none had heard the ring of
skates.

Deciding that in future he would be more careful, he plunged into work,
and sought to dismiss the matter from his mind.

But in his times of leisure the memory returned persistently to haunt
him. When he "ski-d," "luged," or danced in the evenings, and especially
when he skated on the little rink, he was aware that the eyes of his
mind forever sought this strange companion of the night. A hundred times
he fancied that he saw her, but always sight deceived him. Her face he
might not know, but he could hardly fail to recognise her figure. Yet
nowhere among the others did he catch a glimpse of that slim young
creature he had skated with alone beneath the clouded stars. He searched
in vain. Even his inquiries as to the occupants of the private chalets
brought no results. He had lost her. But the queer thing was that he
felt as though she were somewhere close; he _knew_ she had not really
gone. While people came and left with every day, it never once occurred
to him that she had left. On the contrary, he felt assured that they
would meet again.

This thought he never quite acknowledged. Perhaps it was the wish that
fathered it only. And, even when he did meet her, it was a question how
he would speak and claim acquaintance, or whether _she_ would recognise
himself. It might be awkward. He almost came to dread a meeting, though
"dread," of course, was far too strong a word to describe an emotion
that was half delight, half wondering anticipation.

Meanwhile the season was in full swing. Hibbert felt in perfect health,
worked hard, ski-d, skated, luged, and at night danced fairly often--in
spite of his decision. This dancing was, however, an act of subconscious
surrender; it really meant he hoped to find her among the whirling
couples. He was searching for her without quite acknowledging it to
himself; and the hotel-world, meanwhile, thinking it had won him over,
teased and chaffed him. He made excuses in a similar vein; but all the
time he watched and searched and--waited.

For several days the sky held clear and bright and frosty, bitterly
cold, everything crisp and sparkling in the sun; but there was no sign
of fresh snow, and the ski-ers beg