"I see it, of course; but it doesn't seem the nearest way to a fortune, going twice a week on snow-shoes to play solo at the Mule Deer mine. Confess, Jack dear, you do not come straight away as soon as you get your mail." "I do not, of course. I must be civil, after a fashion, to Wilfrid Knight, considering all that he is doing for me." "What is he doing for you?" "He's working as hard as he can for me in certain directions. It's best not to say too much about these things till they've materialized; but he has as strong a backing as any man in the Coeur d'Alêne. To tell you the truth, I can't afford _not_ to be civil to him, if it meant solo every day in the week." Esmée smiled a little, but remained silent. Jack went around to the chimney-piece and filled his pipe, and began to stalk about the room, talking in brief sentences as he smoked. "And by the way, dearest, would you mind if he should drop in on us some day?" Jack laughed at his own phrase, so literally close to the only mode of gaining access to their cellarage in the snow. Esmée looked up quickly. "What in the world does he want to come here for? Doesn't he see enough of you as it is?" "He wants to see something of you; and it's howling lonesome at the Mule Deer. Won't you let him come, Esmée?" "Why, do you want him, Jack?" "I want him! What should I want him for? But we have to be decent to a man who's doing everything in the world for us. We couldn't have made it here, at all, without the aid and comfort of the Mule Deer." "I'd rather have done without his aid and comfort, if it must be paid for at his own price. "Everything has got to be paid for. Even that inordinate fire, which you won't be parted from, has to be paid for with a burning cheek." "Not if you had a fire-screen, Jack," Esmée reminded him sweetly. "We will have one--an incandescent fire-screen on two legs. Will two be enough? A Mule Deer miner shall pack it in on his back from town. But we shall have to thank Wilfrid Knight for sending him. Well, if you won't have him here, he can't come, of course; but it's a mistake, I think. We can't afford, in my opinion, not to see the first hand that is held out to us in a social way--a hand that can help us if it will, but one that is quite as strong to injure us." "Have him, then, if he's so dangerous. But is he nice, do you think?" "He's nice enough, as men go. We're not any of us any too nice." "Some of you are at least considerate, and I think it very inconsiderate of Mr. Wilfrid Knight to wish to intrude himself on me now." "Dearest, he has been kindness itself, and delicacy, in a way. Twice he has sent a special man to town to hunt up little dainties and comforts for you when my prison fare"-- "Jack, what do you mean? Has Wilfrid Knight been putting his hand in his pocket for things for me to eat and drink?"