r eyes went from wall to wall, frightened still and questioning at
first, so he merely nodded and went outside and left her to remember
alone. Returning with wood on his arm he found recollection of much in
her gaze. She was looking at the thin heeled, buttoned boots before
the fireplace; the stockings and furred garments cleaned of mud and
dried on the backs of chairs. A cloud of color stole up from the
blanket edge at her throat to the line of her hair.

"You were wet," he explained simply, "and you were too spent to help
yourself. I could not let you sleep in them."

"I understand," her answer faltered a little. "I was just
thinking. . . . I knew such things happened, but I thought it was only
in books."

Drowsily she watched him bending over frying pan and coffee pot,
content herself to lie and rest. But after a time, with fuller
awakening, the bandage about his head claimed her attention. To her it
seemed impossible that this smoothly shaven man in clean blue shirt
could be the same one who had emerged from a struggle still sickeningly
brutish to her. Involuntarily she shuddered a little without knowing
that he watched.

"I am going to the spring for fresh water," he told her then. "There
will be time for you to dress; and breakfast will be ready when I come
back."

Submissive before his tone she replied that she was hungry; that she
would be ready, too. She had donned blouse and skirt and stocking and
shoes and finished braiding her hair when he re-entered. He showed her
a tin basin outside filled with icy water for her face and hands. And
then they sat down in silence to breakfast.

Once he had dreamed what their first meal together in that room would
be like. This morning when she insisted upon pouring the coffee and
scorched her hand in the attempt and chided him for careless
housekeeping, pain showed in his smile. But she did not immediately
understand. She only realized how sombre he was; how thin he looked
and tired. Again her eyes went to the bandage around his head. It had
a fascination for her, even though it filled her with repulsion for a
decision which, she knew now, might have been hers, two days before.
But eventually it was to that topic she turned.

"You have been very good to me," she said. "Far better than I was to
you--the day before yesterday. I can never hope to thank you enough
for coming to help me."

Wistful she had seen him, and grave and sober-eyed, but never