hairs the weather had plucked from under the hard rim of her hat. It was part of her loveliness that even if she did not understand an act she could accept it.
Presently she leaned over to me across his body and whispered:
"He's not cold. I put the overcoat on him as soon as he was fairly off. I've just felt his hands, and they're as warm as toast." If I had whispered like that I would have wakened him.
Soon he stirred, groped for her hand, and lay with his cheek against the rough palm. He was awake, but liked to lie so.
In a little she shook her hand away and said:
"Get up and run along to the house and have some hot tea. You'll catch your death lying out here."
He caught her hand again. It was evident that for some reason the moment was charged with ecstasy for them both.
It seemed as though there was a softer
