“Well,” he sighed gently, “what of it?” He looked down at her and smiled. “It’s the first good time he’s had for fifteen years. You know we don’t make him happy. I don’t grudge him his joy, Bella, do you? It can’t last long, anyway. Fairy tales can’t hurt her--Hugh believes--almost--in his own inventions. She’ll be going back--her friends will be hunting for her. I’ll let her think I’m a bean-pole of a boy if it makes him any happier to have me one. And why do you care?” She drew in her breath. “Oh, I don’t suppose I care--so much,” she said haltingly. “But--think of the girl.” His eyes widened a little and fell. “The girl?” “She’s falling in love with him!” Pete threw back his head and laughed aloud. “Oh, Bella, you know, _that’s_ funny!” “It’s not. It’s tragic. It’s horrible. You’ll see. Watch her face.” “I have watched it.” He spoke dreamily. “It’s a very pretty and sweet face.” “Pete, Hugh’s robbing _you_.” “Me?” “Yes, you’re young. You’re ready for loving. This child--God sent her to you, to get you out of this desolation, to lead you back to loving and living, to give you what you ought to have--Life.” It was as though she had struck him. He started and drew himself away. “Shut up, Bella,” he said with boyish roughness and limped past her into the house. CHAPTER V In these days Hugh must have known that his magic-making, as he led the little blind girl through the forest of his romancing, was at the mercy of those two that knew him for what he really was; except for queer, wild, threatening looks now and again, he gave no sign. He played his part magnificently, even trusting them to come in with help when they were given their cue. He had dominated them for so long that even they and the picture of him that they held in their minds were not so real as his dreams. It was a queer game, queer and breathless, played in this narrow space shut in by the white wilderness. And as the slow days went by, the low log house seemed to be filled more and more with smothered and conflicting emotions. A dozen times the whole extravaganza came near collapse; a dozen times Hugh saved it by a word, or Pete and Bella by a silence. Their parts were not easy, and although Pete still smiled, his young clear face grew whiter and more strained. Sylvie treated him always as though he were a child. She would pat his head and rumple his hair if he sat near her; once, suddenly, she kissed him lightly on the cheek, after he had moved the chair for her.