He would have opened the gate, but the dog growled savagely, and she hooked the latch hastily, as she said: “Ralph--why--why--I thought--but don’t try to come in--Rex--I could not control him.” She was so agitated she could not speak further. Her knees shook, and she clung to the gate, half leaning. “I have been back a week,” he said slowly. “You haven’t changed much,” he added, eyeing her closely while she flushed under his gaze. “I never expected to see you again.” “No--no--don’t try to come in--Rex--Rex!” The great dog had rushed at the gate as the man tried to open it again, and she held her hand on the latch. “He don’t seem to know your friends from your enemies,” said the man with a cynical laugh. “I think he does,” she said quietly, “better than I have ever known them.” He looked at her quickly. Then he tried to laugh. “Why--Jennie--you know I haven’t seen you in so long.” “I never expected to see you again. I was not looking for you now,” she said. “I never thought I’d ever come back, but the Klondike--well, a man pays two dollars for every dollar’s worth of gold he finds there.” “Tell me about yourself,” she said, still leaning on the gate, one knee resting on the lower plank for support. “Well, Jennie, after we had our little quarrel and you broke off with me--” “You are mistaken,” she said quietly. “You left, Hugh, without a word--without telling me good-bye. There was nothing left to do but to send you your ring.” “We won’t quarrel again, now, Jennie. I have come back to you to tell you--” She had been looking closely in his face, and her heart beat wildly. She had seen it all--the bravado way, the flushed recklessness, the sign everywhere of dissipation, of modesty gone, of truth, of the old manhood. “Not that,” she said, quickly interrupting him, “but of yourself. Tell me where you have been and--and what doing.” He laughed coldly. “Well, after we split up I went West, then to the Klondike. But it was a nasty life. As I said, I have made nothing, and I hoped all the time to make a fortune and bring it back to you, Jennie.” “Was it true--that I heard--the trouble?” “Why, yes, I did get to drinking too much, and got into trouble--but the papers had it overdrawn. I returned him his money. Now I have come back to you--to tell you I still--” “You need not tell it,” she said quickly. “You could tell nothing I would believe now. You are not the man you were before you left, and never will be. Then you were weak, but honest and sober. Now you are weak, but dishonest and a drinker. And you must not come in--no--no--you are not the Hugh I once knew and loved.” She sobbed in a quick way as she said it, but went on quietly: