The pines rose in blurred masses from the shadowy snow and he could not see the hollow of the path.

Supper was a melancholy meal, but he ate because he was hungry, and afterwards dragged his chair to the fire.

There was a great pile of crackling logs and the blaze flickered about the room, but bitter draughts came in beneath the door.
"An open fire's of no use; I thought about getting a stove," he said, and paused with a dreary smile.

"It's lucky I didn't send the order!" "You may need it yet," Charnock replied.

"Somehow we'll put the rails down in time." Festing did not answer and picked up a newspaper.