The handsome French bedstead had been displaced for a small wrought-iron ascetic-looking couch covered with a gorgeously striped Mexican blanket.
The fireplace had been dismantled of its steel grate, and the hearth extended so as to allow a pile of symmetrically heaped moss-covered hickory logs to take its place.

The walls were covered with trophies of the chase, buck-horns and deer-heads, and a number of Indian arrows stood in a sheaf in the corners beside a few modern guns and rifles.
"Perfectly lovely," said Marie, "but"-- with a slight shiver of her expressive shoulders--"a little cold and outdoorish, eh ?" "Nonsense," returned Kitty dictatorially, "and if he IS cold, he can easily light those logs.

They always build their open fires under a tree.

Why, even Mr.Gunn used to do that when he was camping out in the Adirondacks last summer.

I call it perfectly comfortable and SO natural." Nevertheless, they had both tucked their chilly hands under the fleecy shawls they had snatched from the hall for this hyperborean expedition.
"You have taken much pains for him, Kaitee," said Marie, with her faintest foreign intonation.