"Suppose we go over to Sconda's," Glen suggested. "I want to see
Klota. She is doing some work for me."
"I understand," Reynolds replied. "You wish to find out how that bearskin is getting along."
Glen glanced quickly at him, smiled, and slightly blushed.
"You saw it, then? You recognized it?"
"Sconda showed it to me. It is a beauty."
"Do you want it?"
"Oh, no. I have no place to keep such a thing. It pleases me to know that you are anxious to have it as a——"
"As a souvenir of my deliverance," the girl assisted, as Reynolds hesitated.
"And of our first meeting," he added.
Glen did not reply, but looked thoughtfully out over the water toward the shore. She was glad that Reynolds believed she wished to go to Sconda's merely to see about the skin. But in truth, there was something far more important, and it was this which now disturbed her mind. She did not wish to exhibit her anxiety, so the idea of viewing the bearskin was as good a pretext as any other.