“Lantern! Oh, farmhouses always keep the lantern in the nearest corner of the woodshed, if it isn't behind the kitchen door.”
But she did not move to let him close the bam. He looked down at her a moment and then out at the white raging night.
“Can't see forty feet, can you? But, of course, if you don't want to give me a roof I'll have to take my chances. Look poor, don't they? Going to let me shut this door?”
“I am quite alone here.”
“So am I. That's the trouble.”
“I don't think you understand,” she said quietly, speaking in a manner low, cool, and self-contained.
“I've got more understanding now than I'll have in an hour, maybe.”
“I will lend you the lantern.”
“Oh, you mightn't get it back.” He drew the barn door to, which forced her to step forward. A gust of wind about the corner of the bam staggered and threw her back. He caught her about her shoulders and held her steadily, and shot the bolt with the hand that held the lantern.
“That's all right. A man has to take his chances. I dare say a woman had better not.”