CHAPTER III.
THE OUTBREAK
There comes a time
After white months of ice—
Slow months of ice—long months of ice—
There comes a time when the still floods below
Rise, lift, and overflow—
Fast, far they go.
Miss Orella sat in her low armless rocker, lifting perplexed, patient eyes to look up at Dr. Bellair.
Dr. Bellair stood squarely before her, stood easily, on broad-soled, low-heeled shoes, and looked down at Miss Orella; her eyes were earnest, compelling, full of hope and cheer.
"You are as pretty as a girl, Orella," she observed irrelevantly.
Miss Orella blushed. She was not used to compliments, even from a woman, and did not know how to take them.
"How you talk!" she murmured shyly.