Anthony warmed himself by the fire and examined the host, who was without doubt a Frenchman--a huge, swift man who at once gained the attention. "I had hoped to reach Wilmington before night overtook me," said Anthony. "But I could not do it; and so I recalled this place." A quick, bright interest was in the landlord's eye. "Ah," said he, "monsieur has been here before?" "No," said Anthony. "So few come to us from the roads," said the man. "We are out of the track, you see. Our guests are from the river: masters and mates and supercargoes of vessels working up to the city, or bound out to sea, who are at anchor awaiting orders, or repairs, or one of many other things. It was for them, monsieur, that the inn was originally built." "You have not much patronage when the ice is in the river, I suppose?" "Ah! then it is a lean time, indeed," complained the host. "There is nothing." "And yet," continued Anthony, "as I think I've noticed, you do not altogether lack patronage." "A few people who will be gone as soon as they have eaten and rested," said the Frenchman briefly. And then, "Will monsieur remain for the night?" Anthony replied that he would; also that he was hungry and looked forward to a good supper; and then, with many assurances, the landlord left him. The young man stood before the fire for a time, his eyes fixed on the floor, frowning, his hands clasped behind him. There was a moaning of the winter wind among the high, pointed roofs of the Brig; and the mast planted in the dooryard sung keenly. He tried to think what Lafargue and his daughter were doing in so unexpected a place. In pleasanter weather it might be laid to the desire of strangers to journey about, but the bare fields and cold roads beckoned no one on days like these. For a space he wondered at their presence; then, easily, so easily that he was not aware of it, his mind slipped into the thought that mademoiselle was beautiful. He'd always known it, yet he'd never felt it so forcefully as he did at the moment he'd seen her at the table near her father, amusedly watching his interest in the draft-board. Her tallness was marked, and-- "What the devil of it?" said Anthony. "She could be as tall and slim as a spire, and yet it would mean nothing to me."