Why was it that even as they talked together now, she felt the real, true distance between them--of race, of origin, of history, of life, of circumstance?
The hut in the wood where Gabriel Druse had carried Jethro Fawe was not three hundred yards away.
She sighed, stirred, and a wild look came in her eyes--a look of rebellion or of protest.

Presently she recovered herself.

She was a creature of sudden moods.
"What is it you want to do with Manitou and Lebanon ?" she asked after a pause in which the thoughts of both had travelled far.
"You really wish to know--you don't know ?" he asked with sudden intensity.
She regarded him frankly, smiled, then she laughed outright, showing her teeth very white and regular and handsome.

The boyish eagerness of his look, the whimsical twist of his mouth, which always showed when he was keenly roused--as though everything that really meant anything was part of a comet-like comedy--had caused her merriment.

All the hidden things in his face seemed to open out into a swift shrewdness and dry candour when he was in his mood of "laying all the cards upon the table." "I don't know," she answered quietly.