It was pitched very low, yet she heard it.
"Don't cry--for pity's sake! I shall get over it.

I shall live--to get back--my own." Torn by emotion as she was, something in the last words, spoken in that curious undertone, struck her with a subtle force.

With a desperate effort she controlled herself.

She knew that he was still watching her with that strange intensity that she could not bring herself to meet.

His right hand still held hers with quivering tenacity; the other trailed uselessly on the snow.
"Let me help you," she urged again.
He was silent; she feared he was going to refuse.