of last night; but now he fully understood its source and nature and would be prepared.
She gave him her hand in good-by and, when he took it, the clasp surprised both of them with its restoration of the passion of the moment when she had gone to him and put her hand upon him before her grandfather.
"I'd like to feel that you do not ask me to forget that," he said, not describing it, so wholly was it in their pulses. "Do you?"
"No," she said, scarcely audibly; and then firmly, "No."
"I can't stay here unless I'll know where you'll be and how you're doing, Miss Carew," he said, releasing her. "So even if you have nothing particular to report, you'll let me know about yourself."
"Yes," she promised, "if you do the same."
"I will." He opened the door and, escorting her to the sled, gave her over to Miss Platt's keeping. Sam chirruped up his horses.
"Not so cold as yesterday," Miss Platt offered impersonal conversation.
"Not nearly," Ethel agreed.
"Had you breakfast anywhere? Mr. Cullen feared not; so he had a basket packed for you. Would you like something now?"
"I'll take it for later on," Ethel said.
What a marvellous woman was Miss Platt, Ethel thought. Last night her husband had killed some one; and outwardly Miss Platt was as unruffled as ever, as meticulous about the details of her attire and the arrangement of her lusterless hair. Miss Platt undoubtedly had eaten precisely her usual breakfast that morning. Ethel was sure that Miss Platt had slept, too, as soon as she and her husband had finished dis-
