"I think I could tell you anything, Bojo," she said gently. "You seem to understand, and so much that I don't say too!" All at once she slipped and flung back against him to avoid falling. He held her thus--his arm around her. "Turn your ankle? Hurt?" "No, no--ouf!" A galloping gust came tearing over the snow, whirling white spirals, showering them with a myriad of tiny, pointed crystal sparks, stinging their cheeks and blinding their eyes. With a laugh she turned her head away and shrank up close to him, still in the protection of his arms. The gust fled romping away and still they stood, suddenly hushed, clinging with half-closed eyes. She sought to free herself, felt his arms retaining her, glanced up frightened, and then yielded, swaying against him. [Illustration: "'Drina, dear child,' he said in a whisper"] "Drina--dear child," he said in a whisper that was wrenched from his soul. Such a sensation of warmth and gladness, of life and joy, entered his being that all other thoughts disappeared tumultuously, as he held her thus in his arms, there alone in the silence and the luminous night, reveling wildly in the knowledge that the same inevitable impulse had drawn her also to him. "Oh, Bojo, we mustn't, we can't!" The cry had so much young sorrow in it as he drew away that a pain went through his heart to have brought this suffering. "Drina, forgive me. I wouldn't hurt you-- I couldn't help it-- I didn't know what happened," he said brokenly. "Don't--you couldn't help it--or I either. I don't blame you--no, no, I don't blame you," she said impulsively, her eyes wet, her hands fervently clasped. He did not dare meet her glance, his brain in a riot. "We must go back," he said hastily, and they went in silence. When they returned Patsie disappeared. He entered the drawing-room and, though for the first time he felt how false his position was, even with a feeling of guilt, he was surprised at the sudden wave of kindliness and sympathy that swept over him as he took his place by Doris. CHAPTER XIII BOJO MAKES A DECISION The next morning Patsie persistently avoided him. Instead of joining the skaters on the pond, she went off for a long excursion across country on her skis, followed by her faithful bodyguard of Romp and three different varieties of terrier. Bojo came upon her suddenly quite by accident on her return. She was coming up the great winding stairway, not like a whirlwind, but heavily, her head down and thoughtful, heedless of the dogs that tumbled over each other for the privilege of reaching her hand. At the sight of him she stopped instinctively, blushing red before she could master her emotions. He came to her directly, holding out his hand, overcome by the thought of the pain he had unwittingly caused her, seeking the proper words, quite helpless and embarrassed. She took his hand and looked away, her lips trembling.