"Duane, is that your attitude toward everything?"

"Everything except you," he said cheerfully. "That is literally true.
Even in my painting and in my liking for the work of others, I veer
about like a weather-vane, never holding very long to one point of
view."

"You're very frank about it."

"Why not?"

"Isn't it a--a weakness?"

"I don't think so," he said so simply that she tucked her arm under his
with a soft, confidential laugh.

"You goose; do you suppose I think there is a weak fibre in you? I've
always adored the strength in you--even when it was rough enough to
bruise me. Listen, dear; there's only one thing you might possibly
weaken on. Promise you won't."

"I promise."

"Then," she said triumphantly, "you'll take first shot at the big boar!
Are you angry because I made you promise? If you only knew, dear, how
happy I have been, saving the best I had to offer, in this forest, for
you! You will make me happy, won't you?"

"Of course I will, you little trump!" he said, encircling her waist,
forgetful of old Miller, plodding along behind them.

But it was no secret to old Miller, nor to any native in the
country-side for a radius of forty miles. No modern invention can equal
the wireless celerity that distributes information concerning other
people's business throughout the rural wastes of this great and
gossipping nation.

She made him release her, blushing hotly as she remembered that Miller
was behind them, and she scolded her lover roundly, until later, in a
moment of thoughtlessness, she leaned close to his shoulder and told him
she adored him with every breath she drew, which was no sillier than his
reply.

The long blue shadows on the snow and the pink bars of late sunlight had
died out together. It had grown warmer and grayer in the forest; and
after a little one or two snow-flakes came sifting down through the
trees.

They had not jumped the big silver boar, nor had they found a trace of
him among the trails that crossed and recrossed the silent reaches of
the forest. Light was fading to the colourless, opaque gray which
heralded a snow-storm as they reached the feeding-ground, spread out
their fur coats, and dropped, belly down, to reconnoitre.

Nothing moved among the oaks. They lay listening minute after minute; no
significant sound broke the silence, no dead branch cracked in the
hemlocks.

She lay close to him for warmth, chin resting on his shoulder, her cheek
against his.