Nor had it been from lack of observation that he had misunderstood her, for like most men born and bred in the wilderness, he watched faces and tried to read them.

The change had taken place in Vjera herself and it must be due, he thought, to her love for the poor madman.

He smiled to himself in the dark, scarcely understanding why.
It was strange to him perhaps that madness on the one side should bring into life such a world of love on the other.
Vjera turned towards him and once more laid her hand upon his arm.
"Thank you," she said.

"I could not have slept if I had not come here first, and it was very good of you.

I will go home, but do not come with me--you must be tired." "I am never tired," he answered, and they began to walk away in the direction whence they had come.
For a long time neither spoke.