The girl looked at him in wonder. She was of a type common in Magee's world--delicate, finely-reared, sensitive. True, in her pride and haughtiness she suggested the snow-capped heights of the eternal hills. But at sight of those feminine heights Billy Magee had always been one to seize his alpenstock in a more determined grip, and climb. Witness his attentions to the supurb Helen Faulkner. He had a moment of faltering. Here was a girl who at least did not doubt him, who ascribed to him the virtues of a gentleman, who was glad to trust in him. Should he transfer his allegiance? No, he could hardly do that now. "You ask me not to tell you," repeated the girl slowly. "That demands an explanation," replied Billy Magee. "I want you to understand--to be certain that I would delight to help you if I could. But the fact is that before you came I gave my word to secure the package you speak of for--another woman. I can not break my promise to her." "I see," she answered. Her tone was cool. "I'm very sorry," Magee went on. "But as a matter of fact, I seem to be of very little service to any one. Just now I would give a great deal to have the information you were about to give me. But since I could not use it helping you, you will readily see that I must not listen. I'm sorry." "I'm sorry, too," replied the girl. "Thank you very much--for telling me. Now I must--go forward--alone." She smiled unhappily. "I'm afraid you must," answered Billy Magee. On the stairs appeared the slim figure of the other girl. Her great eyes were wistful, her face was pale. She came toward them through the red firelight. Mr. Magee saw what a fool he had been to waver in his allegiance even for a moment. For he loved her, wanted her, surely. The snow-capped heights are inspiring, but far more companionable is the brook that sparkles in the valley. "It's rather dull, isn't it?" asked Miss Norton of the Thornhill girl. By the side of the taller woman she seemed slight, almost childish. "Have you seen the pictures of the admiral, Miss Thornhill? Looking at them is our one diversion." "I do not care to see them, thank you," Myra Thornhill replied, moving toward the stairs. "He is a very dear friend of my father." She passed up and out of sight. Miss Norton turned away from the fire, and Mr. Magee rose hastily to follow. He stood close behind her, gazing down at her golden hair shimmering in the dark. "I've just been thinking," he said lightly, "what an absolutely ridiculous figure I must be in your eyes, buzzing round and round like a bee in a bottle, and getting nowhere at all. Listen--no one has left the inn. While they stay, there's hope. Am I not to have one more chance--a chance to prove to you how much I care?" She turned, and even in the dusk he saw that her eyes were wet. "Oh, I don't know, I don't know," she whispered. "I'm not angry any more. I'm just--at sea. I don't know what to think--what to do. Why try any longer? I think I'll go away--and give up."