Hugh Chesyl, clad in a long grey ulster, was tramping away through the snow.
He passed from sight, and Doris relaxed her hold.

Her face was white and spent.

"Will you take me home ?" she said faintly.
Slowly Jeff's eyes came back to her, dwelt upon her.

He must have seen the exhaustion in her face, but his own showed no softening.
He spoke at last sternly, with grim mastery.

"If I take you back it must be on a different footing.