“I think you must be stronger than Billy.” She cast a reflective glance at his shoulders, and he was ashamed to find himself inordinately flattered. “He is really safe at your house?” “I hope so, I did my best,” he returned grimly. She looked at him gravely. “You have been very kind to a stranger,” she said. And at this point Geoffrey made the fatal mistake of his dealing with her. It did not occur to him that he was going to shield McVay, but he thought a more advantageous time could be found for telling her the truth, in case of course she did not know it already. He felt that he himself would be better able to deal a cold blow when she was warm and sheltered. No man, he said to himself, could be disagreeable to a girl who had no one to depend on but himself. So he said: “He was not exactly a stranger to me. We were at school together.” “Oh, another of Billy’s friends. I never knew such a person for discovering friends at the most opportune times. He never wants anything but what a friend turns up. Did you find him wandering about, or did he come and demand admittance?” “Why, neither exactly. I was not in the house at the time. He felt he knew me well enough to walk in.” “He never told me he had a friend in the neighbourhood.” “We have not met since we were at school.” “He had not seen you since he was at school, and yet he felt he knew you well enough to walk in on you!” “Yes, he just walked in, and then I would not let him go.” “Men are so queer!” she exclaimed with a little laugh that had a spice of admiration in it, under which Geoffrey writhed. He was sailing under such false colours as her brother’s benefactor. “We ought to be starting,” he said. She looked round the room. “I hate to leave all these nice things,” she said. “Billy is so fond of them. There is some wine that some one gave him that he says is really priceless.” “Leave it,” said Geoffrey shortly. “One would think you were a teetotaller from that tone. I wonder if I could not take one bottle as a surprise to Billy. He would like to contribute something to your hospitality, I am sure. Besides, if I leave it, it may be stolen.” “Yes, it may be stolen.” He looked down into her face. “Then—” “I ask you as a favour to leave it behind.” Nothing could have been more charming than her manner of yielding, sweet and quick like a caress. It made him feel how pitiful sordid it all was. They started immediately, started with a certain gaiety. Geoffrey chose to remember only that they were together through a hard adventure, and that it was his part to smooth her way. The bond of difficulties to overcome united them. They felt the intimacy of a single absorbing interest. They had nothing to think of but accomplishing their task,—of that and of each other. As far as they could see were snow and black trunks of trees. They scarcely remembered that any one but themselves existed.