tily as ever she had sipped at a reception. "I can
scarcely forgive that, dearie. You were taking a tremendous risk of
being maligned and misunderstood. You might have found yourself
terribly involved. You are so impulsive, Marion. You should have come
straight to me."

"Well, but I was afraid--"

"Afraid of Kate? Why, _dearie_!"

That is the way they talked, until they heard the professor scraping
the snow off his feet on the edge of the flat doorstep. Kate lay back
then on her piled pillows, placed a finger across her closed lips and
pulled her scanty hair braid down over her left shoulder. She shut her
eyes and held them so until the professor came in, when she opened
them languidly.

Marion carried away the chocolate cups, her heart light. She would not
have believed that a reconciliation with Kate and the unburdening of
her secret could work such a change in her feelings. She wished
fervently that she had told Kate at first. Now they could have Jack
down at the cabin sometimes, when the men were both away. They would
cook nice little dinners for him, and she could lend him all the
reading matter he wanted. She would not have to sneak it away from the
cabin. It was a great relief. Marion was very happy that evening.

Jack was not so happy. He was climbing slowly back to his comfortless
camp, wondering whether it was worth while to keep up the struggle for
sake of his freedom. Jail could not be worse than this, he kept
telling himself. At least there would be other human beings--he would
not be alone day after day. He would be warm and no worse off for food
than here. Only for his mother and the shame it would bring her, he
would gladly make the exchange. He was past caring, past the horror of
being humiliated before his fellows.

It was hard work climbing to the cave, but that was not the reason why
he had not wanted Marion to make the trip. He did not want Marion to
know that the cave was half full of snow that had blown in with the
wind, and that he was compelled to dig every stick of firewood out
from under a snowdrift. Only for that pile of wood, he would have
moved his camp to the other side of the peak that was more sheltered,
even though it was hidden from the mountain side and the lower valleys
he had learned to know so well.

But the labor of moving his camp weighed heavily against the comfort
he would gain. He did not believe that he would actually freeze here,
now that he had the bearskin; stiff