She did not quite know what she had expected to find in Mesa. Certainly she knew that Indians were no longer on the map, and cowboys were kicking up their last dust before vanishing, but she had supposed that they had left compensations in their wake. On the principle that adventures are to the adventurous, her life should have been a whirl of hairbreadth escapes. But what happened? She took all sorts of chances without anything coming of it. Her pirate fiance was the nearest approach to an adventure she had flushed, and this pink-and-white chit of a married schoolgirl had borrowed him for the most splendid bit of excitement that would happen in a hundred years. She had been spinning around the country in motor-cars for months without the sign of a blizzard, but the chit had hit one the first time. It wasn’t fair. That was her blizzard by rights. In spirit, at least, she had “spoken for it,” as she and her brother used to say when they were children of some coveted treasure not yet available. Virginia was quite sure that if she had seen Waring Ridgway at the inspired moment when he was plowing through the drifts with Mrs. Harley in his arms—only, of course, it would have been she instead of Mrs. Harley, and he would not have been carrying her so long as she could stand and take it—she would have fallen in love with him on the spot. And those two days in the cabin on half-ration they would have put an end forever to her doubts and to that vision of Lyndon Hobart that persisted in her mind. What luck glace’ some people did have! But Virginia discovered the chit to be rather a different personality than she had supposed. In truth, she lost her heart to her at once. She could have stood out against Aline’s mere good looks and been the stiffer for them. She was no MAN, to be moved by the dark hair’s dusky glory, the charm of soft girlish lines, the effect of shy unsophistication that might be merely the highest art of social experience. But back of the sweet, trembling mouth that seemed to be asking to be kissed, of the pathetic appeal for friendliness from the big, deep violet eyes, was a quality of soul not to be counterfeited. Miss Balfour had furbished up the distant hauteur of the society manner she had at times used effectively, but she found herself instead taking the beautiful, forlorn little creature in her arms. “Oh, my dear; my dear, how glad I am that dreadful blizzard did not hurt you!” Aline clung to this gracious young queen as if she had known her a lifetime. “You are so good to me everybody is. You know how Mr. Ridgway saved me. If it had not been for him I should have died. I didn’t care—I wanted to die in peace, I think—but he wouldn’t let me.” “I should think not.” “If you only knew him—perhaps you do.” “A little,” confessed Virginia, with a flash of merry eyes at Mrs. Mott. “He is the bravest man—and the strongest.” “Yes. He is both,” agreed his betrothed, with pride.