So Kenset dived once more into the mysterious recesses of the trunk and this time brought out a thing of rare beauty and value, a large tapestry, some four by six feet in size, a wonderful thing of soft and deathless hues, of cunning distances, of Greek figures and leaning trees, of sea-line so faint as to be almost lost in the misty skies. "Oh!" said Tharon Last with an intake of her breath, "Oh, where do they make such things?" "Far on the other side of the world," said Kenset gently, pleased with the wonder in her wide eyes, the evident and quick realization of beauty. She whirled from it and glanced quickly at the two spaces on the rugged walls. "There," she said, pointing to the broad expanse between the northern windows, "hang it there." "Done," said Kenset, and went promptly for a hammer. When the huge thick mat was securely stretched in place, Tharon helping to hold it while he pounded in the broad-topped tacks, Kenset stepped back and wondered how he had ever for a moment considered hanging it in any other spot. The tempered light from the door came in upon it, bringing out each enchanted charm, each tender vista. "Wonderful!" he said to himself, "I never knew how lovely it was amid conventional surroundings!" "Huh?" asked Tharon. The man laughed in spite of himself and turned his eyes to hers, to lose his quick amusement in the earnest blue depths that seemed to question him at every angle. "I mean that it looks better here in my cabin than it ever did on city walls." "Why?" "Well--I don't know. Contrast, perhaps." Tharon stood a moment thinking. "Perhaps," she answered slowly, "yes, perhaps. I guess that's why you seem so diff'rent to me. Jim Last used to say that was why th' Valley was so soft-like an' lovely, contrasted by th' Rockface." "Do I seem different to you?" asked Kenset quickly. "How?" "Yes. I don't know how. You seem soft, like a woman--some women--an' I'm afraid----" She stopped suddenly, abruptly halted in her naive speech, as if she had come face to face with something she had not meant to meet. "Afraid?" probed the man gravely, "go on. You are afraid--of what?" "No," said Tharon, "I won't say it" "Please do. I want to know." "Then," answered the girl straightly, after the honest and downright fashion of all her dealings, "I'm afraid you are--are too soft. You don't pack a gun. I'm afraid you wouldn't use it if you did." There was a certain finality about the short speech, as if she had put the last word of condemnation to his estate. Kenset looked down at his hands, spread them out a bit. "You're right," he said shortly, though his voice was still gentle. "I don't. And I wouldn't. Not until the last extremity." "An' what would that be?" she asked. "I don't just know, Miss Last," he answered smiling and raising his eyes once more to hers, "it would have to be--the _last_ extremity, I know.