The birch rafters shook above their heads, and every now and then it seemed that a roaring gust would lift the roof from them.

Still the stove glowed and snapped, and close in about it there was a drowsy heat, while presently the girl's eyes grew heavy.

Finally, for there are few who can resist the desire for sleep in the cold of the Northwest, her head sank back, and Winston, rising very slowly, held his breath as he piled the furs about her.

That done, he stooped and looked down upon her while the blood crept to his face.

Maud Barrington lay very still, the long dark lashes resting on her cold tinted cheek, and the patrician serenity of her face was even more marked in her sleep.