“I should think you would have preferred to be at a hotel or a hospital for the winter if you are not well,” she volunteered a few moments later when her host had placed her chair in front of one of his tables where his little feast was spread. In spite of the fact that she was enjoying her tea, Gill found conversation difficult with an individual whose tastes and point of view were so unlike her own. “I should think you would be desperately lonely here; you see it is different with us, there are so many of us and we are accustomed to being together.” As Allan Drain lifted the teapot his long, slender hand shook slightly. “Why, yes, I am often lonely,” he agreed. “It would be absurd for me to deny it. I live in this fashion rather than in a hotel or boarding house because it is much cheaper. My people have no money to spare and the uncle who has been paying for my education as a surgeon is annoyed at my break-down. He declares that if I were less antagonistic to my work I would never have gone to pieces. In fact, he thinks I am enjoying myself living alone in the woods with an opportunity to write poetry and dream, which is all he believes I care for, and he is not so far from right. I know you will have a contempt for me, but I tried my best to make up my mind to do what you managed to accomplish in a few seconds, relieve a little animal from pain. If I had not the nerve or the courage to be of help to an animal, what do you think of my chance of being of service to human beings?” “I don’t think you will be of _any use_ at all,” Gill answered abruptly, and then it was her turn to flush, not because it troubled her that she may have wounded her companion, but because she had been uncomfortably conscious of the abruptness and awkwardness of her manner ever since her interview with Mrs. Graham. This was only a fresh instance of her lack of poise and tact, which seemed so conspicuous in Mrs. Graham and Bettina and which she so admired. In spite of his courtesy and kindness at the present time, Gill was still convinced that she did not like Allan Drain and could never like him under any circumstances. The antagonism of their first meeting was only asleep and might wake again at any moment. Surely he must like her even less and with better reason. This afternoon he was only returning the hospitality he had received from other members of her own Camp Fire group. When her host arose to replenish the fire Gill studied him closely. She was again positive that she did not care for his appearance. The yellow hair bronzed by the sun until it was nearly the color of a lion’s mane was worn too long, the figure was too slender and without sufficient force, the broad shoulders stooped. Yet perhaps he was not so effeminate in appearance as she originally had thought; the effect was rather due to delicacy.