erve."

"How does he show it, Ramsdell?" Olive asked, a little faintly, for
there was that in the whites of the great black eyes which made her
painfully aware that Ramsdell was not talking quite at random, and she
disliked to feel that even those dog-like eyes, devoted though they
were to Reed, had penetrated the secret of her woman's nature.

Ramsdell's reply refreshed her by its very lack of sentiment.

"When 'e's feeling fit, Miss Keltridge, 'e swears something glorious.
Nowadays, it's as much as he can do to trump up henergy to let off a
single damn. There! He's calling!" And Ramsdell vanished in the
direction of the stairs.

Left to herself, Olive tramped home as if the seven-league boots had
been upon her feet. Once at home, for some reason only known to
womankind, she elected to sweep and dust the library with her own
hands, and then to scour the brasses of the fireplace. Half through the
second operation, though, she hesitated, paused, stopped short and
threw aside her cloth and pinafore. Leaving them for the maids to
discover and gather up at will, she went to her room, arrayed herself
immaculately and quite regardless of the weather, and once more sallied
out in search of Reed. While she was going up the Opdyke stairs,
however, she suddenly became aware that she had nothing to say to him
which would account for her suddenly renewed desire for his society.
Accordingly, she talked of Brenton till Reed's soul was weary. Then,
with a sudden flounce, she brought the talk around to Reed himself.

"How many mines have you added to your list, to-day?" she asked him.

Reed heaved a short sigh of relief, not out of egotism, but merely to
be freed from further talk concerning Brenton.

"Only one."

"That's unusual. Still, I am rather glad it happens so. Ramsdell is
convinced that you are working too hard, in this impossible weather."

"Ramsdell is a chronic grumbler," Reed said disloyally. "I'm all right,
Olive."

She bent forward, her elbows on her knees, and stared down at him
intently.

"I'm not too sure of that, Reed. You are growing thin, and you look
tired. No wonder, from what Mr. Duncan has told us. Is it quite worth
while, though?"

"It is."

"But why?" she urged, with sudden recklessness of any pain her
insistence might be causing him.

He reddened.

"Let's leave the dead past out of it, Olive. What's the use of going
over the old ground again? You know my one ambition is to make whatever