"It is very easy. And why? Because you are masculine. You strike the
deepest chords of a woman's heart. You are something to cling to,--big-
muscled, strong, and brave. In short, because you _are_ a man."
She shot a glance at the clock. It was half after the hour. She had
given a margin of thirty minutes to Sitka Charley; and it did not matter,
now, when Devereaux arrived. Her work was done. She lifted her head,
laughed her genuine mirth, slipped her hand clear, and rising to her feet
called the maid.
"Alice, help Mr. Vanderlip on with his _parka_. His mittens are on the
sill by the stove."
The man could not understand.
"Let me thank you for your kindness, Floyd. Your time was invaluable to
me, and it was indeed good of you. The turning to the left, as you leave
the cabin, leads the quickest to the water-hole. Good-night. I am going
to bed."
Floyd Vanderlip employed strong words to express his perplexity and
disappointment. Alice did not like to hear men swear, so dropped his
_parka_ on the floor and tossed his mittens on top of it. Then he made a
break for Freda, and she ruined her retreat to the inner room by tripping
over the _parka_.
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