He closed the door and hurried down the path, moved even beyond his pity by the certainty that she was nearer him. She had accepted that strange community of interest between them. She had to be saved and he was to save her. Now it would be easier. He had no thought but to find Nan down at the house, but two-thirds of the way along the path he saw her, sitting on a slant of the great boulder and looking grave. She was not the Nan who had come to the hut, a half hour ago, so gaily certain of her welcome. The two women had shied at the sight of each other. He had cleared up the situation for the one, and now he had to do it for Nan. That was simple. He had never known her to fail in understanding. He came up to her and she raised her eyes, earnest now, startled, to his. "Aren't you too cold there?" he asked. She shook her head and smiled a little. "No, not with my fur. I'm afraid the gray squirrels will see me. What would they think of skinning so many of their little brothers?" "Nan," he said, "you saw her." She nodded, slid off the rock and stood there, not looking at him. Of course she saw her, Nan's inner self was answering. Didn't they meet face to face? But she knew this was but his beginning and she would not challenge it. He plunged into the turmoil of Tira's affairs, foreign to him so short a time ago and yet his. "She's the wife of the man who bought the old Frye place, next to yours. He's jealous of her, has fits of insane rage against her and she has to get out. One day I found her hiding up here in the woods. I told her, whenever she had to make tracks to come here to the hut, and build a fire and stay. I leave the key under the stone." "Yes," said Nan. "I see." "No, you don't," cried Raven, "or you wouldn't look like that. What is it you don't see? What is it you don't like? Out with it, Nan." Nan said nothing, and suddenly he saw she was trembling. It was in her lips, it must be all over her, because he could see it in her hands, the tight shut ball of them under her long sleeves. "Now," he said, irritated beyond measure by the unkindness of circumstance, "what is it I haven't made clear? Don't you like her? Don't you believe in her? Or don't you take any stock in what I tell you?" "Of course I believe you," said Nan quietly. He could see her relax. "As for liking her--well, she's beautiful. I agree with you perfectly there." But he had not said she was beautiful. That he did not remember. "She is, isn't she?" he agreed. "And so--Nan, she's the strangest creature you ever saw in your life. I suppose I could count up the words she's spoken to me. But the queer part of it is, I know they're all true. I know she's true. I'd stake----" there he paused. "Yes," said Nan quietly. "I've no doubt she's true. And she's a very lucky woman." "Lucky?" repeated Raven, staring. "She's the most unfortunate creature I ever saw. Lucky! what do you mean by that?"