And when he had finished, she reached out a hand, and for an instant it touched his face and his wet hair so lightly that he sensed the thrilling caress of it without feeling its weight.
"You are so good to me, Jeems," she said, and he thought there was a little choking note in her throat.
He had seated himself on the floor, close to her chair, with his back to the wall.

"It is because I love you, Gray Goose," he replied quietly, looking straight into the fire.
She was silent.

She, too, was looking into the fire.

Close over their heads they heard the beating of the rain, like a thousand soft little fists pounding the top of the cabin.

Under them they could feel the slow swinging of the scow as it responded to the twists and vagaries of the current that was carrying them on.