The hand that he held trembled a little.
“It wouldn’t be so bad,” she mused, “if—if— Well, we could live here all winter, I believe. We can get plenty to eat—such as it is—and we can always keep warm. But—”
“Yes, I know.” He squeezed her fingers. “It’s the devil. If we only knew what to expect! What the dickens is the matter with me, anyway? And why didn’t the doctor tell you, at least?”
“He explained that—almost. He wants to be fair. He hoped that he could get back in time to save you from—from whatever is to happen to you. Then there would be no need to tell what he knows. He took that chance, do you understand? But now he won’t get back in time, and—and we’ll soon know what your great trouble is.”
She sighed wearily.
“Whatever it is, Charmian, you’ll never give me up, will you, dearest?”
“Never!”
They kissed long and tremulously, then the girl rose to her feet and pulled at his hand till he stood beside her.
“Let’s go back to the Cave of Hypocritical Frogs,” she said. “It’s getting cold out here. And see, Andy—the snow is beginning to thicken on the ground. It’ll be white by morning.”
That same day she was putting their simple belongings to rights in the Cave of Hypocritical Frogs. Each had a table—a flat-topped stone—on which articles of daily use were kept. Womanlike, she fussed over his things, which he consistently left awry. He was outside cutting wood. She cleaned his comb and military brushes and laid things straight, then opened the leather-covered case that contained his safety-razor to make sure that he had not overlooked an unused blade. And in the little metal container she found three, still sealed in their paper covers.