And deep back in her eyes, and in her face, there were still the living, hidden traces of her girlhood heritage ready to bloom again if Fate, mending its error at last, would only take away forever the crushing presence of the Master.

She stood a little longer before the bit of glass when she heard the crunching of footsteps in the snow outside.
Swiftly what had been in her face was gone.

Le Beau had been away on his trapline since yesterday, and his return filled her with the old dread.

Twice he had caught her before the mirror and had called her vile names for wasting her time in admiring herself when she might have been scraping the fat from his pelts.

The second time he had sent her reeling back against the wall, and had broken the mirror until the bit she treasured now was not much larger than her two slim hands.