She was going home.

She whispered that to him so often that it became a little song in his brain.

Yet she told him nothing of that home, and he waited, knowing that the fulfilment of her promise was not far away.

And there was no embarrassment in the manner of her surrender when he held her in his arms, and she held her face up, so that he could kiss her mouth and look into her glowing, lovely eyes.
What he saw was the flush of a great happiness, the almost childish confession of it along with the woman's joy of possession.

And he thought of Kedsty, and of the Law that was rousing itself into life back at Athabasca Landing.
And then she ran her fingers through his own and told him to wait, and ran into the cabin and came out a moment later with her brush; and after that she seated herself at the fulcrum of the big sweep and began to brush out her hair in the sun.
"I'm glad you love it, Jeems," she said.
She unbound the thick braid and let the silken strands of it run caressingly between her fingers.