One picture it could not obliterate, and that was the scene of Jacqueline and Pierre le Rouge laughing together over the love affair with the silly girl of the yellow hair.
That was the meaning, then, of those silences that had come between them?
He had been thinking, remembering, careful lest he should forget a single scruple of the whole ludicrous affair.

She shuddered, remembering how she had fairly flung herself into his arms.
On that she brooded, after starting the little fire.

It was not that she was cold, but the fire, at least, in the heart of the black night, was a friend incapable of human treachery.

She had not been there long when the tall bay, Wilbur's horse, stiffened, raised his head, arched his tail, and then whinnied.
She started to her feet, stirred by a thousand fears, and heard, far away, an answering neigh.

At once all thought of shame and of Pierre le Rouge vanished from her mind, for she remembered the man who had followed her up the valley of the Old Crow.