"See if they've left anything to eat--anything that looks fairly clean." Hard emerged a few moments later empty-handed. "Not a thing," he said. "We evidently arrived at the psychological moment for this little family. That ten dollars Scott gave them will tide them over till Carlotta finds another beau." "But wasn't there anything to eat?" "Not a bone. Mother Hubbard's cupboard was a cafeteria compared to Grandmother Soria's. Draw in your belt and forget it." "Why did we eat so much this afternoon? They left us the biggest part of the luncheon. Henry, we are pigs," moaned Clara, wanly. "I know. We're not the sort to be cast on a desert isle, I'm afraid. If the Sorias get back to-night----" "They won't. They'll stay and make a night of it." "Perhaps the hungry feeling will wear off after a while," said Hard, hopefully. "I wonder? I've often thought I'd like to try a fast. One hears of people doing it and having such odd and fascinating sensations," said Clara, thoughtfully. "My sensations are odd," replied Hard, "but they are distinctly not fascinating." They sat quietly for a while, watching the clouds hovering over the mountains, sometimes over the peaks, sometimes nestling in fleecy patches half-way up. "The trail they took crosses about where that gap in the mountains is," said Clara. "Under that first cloud, so Mr. Scott said." "Pretty high." "Yes, they'll have to do some climbing." Clara sighed softly. Hard felt an unreasonable desire, almost an angry desire to take her in his arms. It was a feeling unlike him, usually so moderate in his emotions. "Clara," he said, softly, "were you thinking of him when you sighed?" Clara started. "Him!" she echoed, helplessly. "Yes, Dick Conrad." "Not exactly, Henry. I was thinking of that terrible trip we took through the mountains--yes, I was in a way thinking of Dick." "You were very happy together, weren't you? You were awfully in love with him, I mean. I'm not being impertinent, am I, Clara? You know I don't intend to be." "No, Henry, I understand. I don't believe I'm the kind of woman who falls in love--at least, in the way most people mean. There's nothing very violent about me except once in a while when I get to singing something which takes hold of me pretty hard. "Richard and I had a rather exciting little love affair, then after a while we both began to realize that we weren't very romantic--in regard to people. He was passionately devoted to adventure of every kind, and I had a way of putting my best into music. I didn't feel heart-broken when I found out that we really weren't anything more than good friends and neither did he. "I'd cheerfully give all I've got to bring Dick back; I get lonesome for him--awfully. And yet, that isn't exactly the sort of thing that the average person means by 'love,' is it?" "It would have made me very happy once to know that you cared that much for me," answered Hard, bitterly.