As he did this, Frona noted her face go tired and gray, and the hardness and recklessness of her laughter were there painted in harsh tones, and a bitter devil rose up and lurked in her eyes.

It was evident that the same bitter devil rushed hotly to her tongue.

But it chanced just then that she glanced at Frona, and all expression was brushed from her face save the infinite tiredness.

She smiled wistfully at the girl, and without a word turned and went down the trail.
And without a word Frona sprang upon her sled and was off.

The way was wide, and Corliss swung in his dogs abreast of hers.