All that afternoon he worked upon her shelter and by sunset it was weather-tight. On three sides and top it was covered with birches, and over the opening toward the fire was a projecting eave which could be lowered over one side as a protection from the wind. When he had finished it he stood at one side and examined his handiwork with an approving eye.
She had already thanked him many times.
“Of course, I don’t know how to show my gratitude,” she said again.
“Then don’t try.”
“But you can’t sleep out again.”
“Oh, yes, I can. I’m going to anyway.”
“You mustn’t.”
He glanced up at her quizzically.
“Why not?”
“I want to take my share.”