at first, the man and the woman. While the maid helped
Freda off with her wraps, Floyd Vanderlip replenished the fire; and by
the time the maid had withdrawn to an inner room, his head over the
stove, he was busily thawing out his burdened upper lip. After that he
rolled a cigarette and watched her lazily through the fragrant eddies.
She stole a glance at the clock. It lacked half an hour of midnight. How
was she to hold him? Was he angry for that which she had done? What was
his mood? What mood of hers could meet his best? Not that she doubted
herself. No, no. Hold him she could, if need be at pistol point, till
Sitka Charley's work was done, and Devereaux's too.

There were many ways, and with her knowledge of this her contempt for the
man increased. As she leaned her head on her hand, a fleeting vision of
her own girlhood, with its mournful climacteric and tragic ebb, was
vouchsafed her, and for the moment she was minded to read him a lesson
from it. God! it must be less than human brute who could not be held by
such a tale, told as she could tell it, but--bah! He was not worth it,
nor worth the pain to her. The candle was positioned just right, and
even as she thought of these things sacredly shameful to her, he was
pleasuring in the transparent pinkiness of her ear. She noted his eye,
took the cue, and turned her head till the clean profile of the face was
presented. Not the least was that profile among her virtues. She could
not help the lines upon which she had been builded, and they were very
good; but she had long since learned those lines, and though little they
needed, was not above advantaging them to the best of her ability. The
candle began to flicker. She could not do anything ungracefully, but
that did not prevent her improving upon nature a bit, when she reached
forth and deftly snuffed the red wick from the midst of the yellow flame.
Again she rested head on hand, this time regarding the man thoughtfully,
and any man is pleased when thus regarded by a pretty woman.

She was in little haste to begin. If dalliance were to his liking, it
was to hers. To him it was very comfortable, soothing his lungs with
nicotine and gazing upon her. It was snug and warm here, while down by
the water-hole began a trail which he would soon be hitting through the
chilly hours. He felt he ought to be angry with Freda for the scene she
had created, but somehow he didn't feel a bit wrathful. Like as no