ng no reasonable
way to obtain peace, promised. If she could only keep her there two
weeks quietly, perhaps that would help. Suzanne could think here under
different conditions. New York was so exciting. Out at this lodge all
would be still. There was more argument, and, finally, Suzanne agreed to
enter the hack, and they drove over toward Mont Cecile and the
Cathcarts' Lodge, now vacant and lonely, which was known as
"While-a-Way."

CHAPTER XVIII

The Cathcart Lodge, a long, two-story affair, half-way up a fine covered
mountain slope, was one of those summer conveniences of the rich,
situated just near enough to the primeval wilds to give one a sense of
the unexplored and dangerous in raw nature, and yet near enough to the
comforts of civilization, as represented by the cities of Quebec and
Montreal, to make one feel secure in the possession of those material
joys, otherwise so easily interrupted. It was full of great rooms
tastefully furnished with simple summery things--willow chairs, box
window-seats, structural book shelves, great open fireplaces, surmounted
by handsome mantels, outward swinging leaded casements, settees,
pillow-strewn rustic couches, great fur rugs and robes and things of
that character. The walls were ornamented with trophies of the
chase--antlers, raw fox skins, mounted loons and eagles, skins of bears
and other animals. This year the Cathcarts were elsewhere, and the lodge
was to be had by a woman of Mrs. Dale's standing for the asking.

When they reached While-a-Way, the caretaker, Pierre, an old habitant of
musty log-hut origin, who spoke broken English and was dressed in
earth-brown khaki over Heaven knows what combination of clothes beneath,
had lighted the fires and was bestirring himself about warming the house
generally with the furnaces. His wife, a small, broad-skirted,
solid-bodied woman, was in the kitchen preparing something to eat. There
was plenty of meat to be had from the larder of the habitant himself, to
say nothing of flour, butter, and the like. A girl to serve was called
from the family of a neighboring trapper. She had worked in the lodge as
maid to the Cathcarts. They settled down to make themselves comfortable,
but the old discussion continued. There was no cessation to it, and
through it all, actually, Suzanne was having her way.

Meanwhile, Eugene back in New York was expecting word from Suzanne on
Thursday, and none came. He called up the house only to lea