"She's the wife of the man who bought the old Frye place, next to yours. He's jealous of her, has fits of insane rage against her and she has to get out. One day I found her hiding up here in the woods. I told her, whenever she had to make tracks to come here to the hut, and build a fire and stay. I leave the key under the stone."
"Yes," said Nan. "I see."
"No, you don't," cried Raven, "or you wouldn't look like that. What is it you don't see? What is it you don't like? Out with it, Nan."
Nan said nothing, and suddenly he saw she was trembling. It was in her lips, it must be all over her, because he could see it in her hands, the tight shut ball of them under her long sleeves.
"Now," he said, irritated beyond measure by the unkindness of circumstance, "what is it I haven't made clear? Don't you like her? Don't you believe in her? Or don't you take any stock in what I tell you?"
"Of course I believe you," said Nan quietly. He could see her relax. "As for liking her—well, she's beautiful. I agree with you perfectly there."
But he had not said she was beautiful. That he did not remember.
"She is, isn't she?" he agreed. "And so—Nan, she's the strangest creature you ever saw in your life. I suppose I could count up the words she's spoken to me. But the queer part of it is, I know they're all true. I know she's true. I'd stake——" there he paused.
"Yes," said Nan quietly. "I've no doubt she's true. And she's a very lucky woman."
"Lucky?" repeated Raven, staring. "She's the most unfortunate creature I ever saw. Lucky! what do you mean by that?"