"It's cold there, Jenny. Not warm at all. Snow and ice. And you won't see anybody for weeks and months--anybody but just me. And we shall have to do everything for ourselves--clothes, house-building, food catching and killing... Trim your own hats... Like the Swiss Family Robinson; only you won't have everything growing outside as they did. And we'll go out in canoes if we go on the water at all; and see Indians--'Heap big man bacca' sort of business--and perhaps hear wolves (I'm not quite sure of that); and go about on sledges... with dogs to draw them. But with all that we shall be free. There won't be any bureaucrats to tyrannise over us; no fashions, no regulations, no homemade laws to make dull boys of us. Just fancy, Jenny: nobody to _make_ us do anything. Nothing but our own needs and wishes..." "I expect we shall tyrannise--as you call it--over each other," Jenny said shrewdly. "It seems to me that's what people do." "Little wretch!" cried Keith. "To interrupt with such a thing. When I was just getting busy and eloquent. I tell you: there'll be inconveniences. You'll find you'll want somebody besides me to talk to and look after. But then perhaps you'll have somebody!" "Who?" asked Jenny, unsuspiciously. "Not Pa, I'm sure." Keith held her away from him, and looked into her eyes. Then he crushed her against him, laughing. It took Jenny quite a minute to understand what he meant. "Very dull, aren't you!" cried Keith. "Can't see beyond the end of your nose." "I shouldn't think it was hardly the sort of place for babies," Jenny sighed. "From what you say." v Keith roared with laughter, so that the _Minerva_ seemed to shake in sympathy with his mirth. "You're priceless!" he said. "My bonny Jenny. I shouldn't think there was ever anybody like you in the world!" "Lots of girls," Jenny reluctantly suggested, shaking a dolorous head at the ghost of a faded vanity. "I'm afraid." She revived even as she spoke; and encouragingly added: "Perhaps not exactly like." "I don't believe it! You're unique. The one and only Jenny Redington!" "Red--!" Jenny's colour flamed. "Sounds nice," she said; and was then silent. "When we're married," went on Keith, watching her; "where shall we go for our honeymoon? I say!... how would you like it if I borrowed the yacht from Templecombe and ran you off somewhere in it? I expect he'd let me have the old _Minerva._ Not a bad idea, eh what!" "_When_ we're married," Jenny said breathlessly, very pale. "What d'you mean?" Keith's eyes were so close to her own that she was forced to lower her lids. "When I come back from this trip. Templecombe says three months. It may be less." "It may be more." Jenny had hardly the will to murmur her warning--her distrust.