er," said Hugh, drawing a deep breath. "Shall we sit a bit
and rest?"

"Oh, do let us," said Adrien. "This has been a strenuous and exciting
evening. I really feel quite done out. Here is a most inviting seat."

Wearily she sat down on a bench which faced the entrance to one of the
rooms.

"Shall I bring you a glass of water or an ice, Adrien?" inquired Hugh,
noting the pallor in her face.

"Thank you. A glass of water, if you will be so kind. How deliciously
fragrant that spruce is."

As her partner set off upon his errand, Adrien stepped to the spruce
tree which screened the open door of the room opposite, and taking
the bosky branches in her hands, she thrust her face into the aromatic
foliage.

"How deliciously fragrant," she murmured.

Suddenly, as if stabbed by a spine in the trees, she started back and
stood gazing through the thick branches into the room beyond There
stood Maitland and Annette, the girl, with her face tearfully pale and
pleading, uplifted to his and with her hands gripped tight and held fast
in his, clasped against his breast. More plainly than words her face,
her eyes, her attitude told her tale. She was pouring out her very soul
to him in entreaty, and he was giving eager, sympathetic heed to her
appeal.

Swiftly Adrien stepped back from the screening tree, her face white as
if from a stunning blow, her heartbeats checking her breath. Quickly,
blindly, she ran down the corridor. At the very end she met Hugh with a
glass of water in his hand.

"What is the matter, Adrien? Have you seen a ghost?" he cried in an
anxious voice.

She caught the glass from his hand and began to drink, at first
greedily, then more slowly.

"Ah!" she said, drawing a deep breath. "That is good. Do you know, I
was almost overcome. The air of that room is quite deadly. Now I am all
right. Let us get a breath from the outside, Hugh."

Taking him by the arm, she hastened him to the farther end of the
corridor and opened the door. "Oh, delicious!" She drew in deep breaths
of the cold, fresh air.

"How wonderful the night is, Hugh." She leaned far out, "and the snow
was like a cloth of silver and diamonds in this glorious moon." She
stooped, and from a gleaming bank beside the door she caught up a double
handful of the snow and, packing it into a little ball, flung it at her
partner, catching him fairly on the ear.

"Aha!" she cried. "Don't ever say a woman is a poor shot. Now then," she
added, stamping h