He
had to show her the spring outside and the little bench with basin and
soap. Sight of his soiled towel made her throw up her hands. She sat on the
stools. She lay on the couch. She rummaged into the contents of the
cupboard. She threw wood on the fire. Then, finally, having exhausted her
search and inquiry, she flopped down on one of the stools to gaze at Glenn
in awe and admiration and incredulity.
"Glenn--you've actually lived here!" she ejaculated.
"Since last fall before the snow came," he said, smiling.
"Snow! Did it snow?" she inquired.
"Well, I guess. I was snowed in for a week."
"Why did you choose this lonely place--way off from the Lodge?" she asked,
slowly.
"I wanted to be by myself," he replied, briefly.
"You mean this is a sort of camp-out place?"
"Carley, I call it my home," he replied, and there was a low, strong
sweetness in his voice she had never heard before.
That silenced her for a while. She went to the door and gazed up at the
towering wall, more wonderful than ever, and more fearful, too, in her
sight. Presently tears dimmed her eyes. She did not understand her feeling;
she was ashamed of it; she hid it from Glenn. Indeed, there was something
terribly wrong between her and Glenn, and it was not in him.
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