"They must have filled it before they went," Priscilla answered. "See, there is some oil on the table."
McAlpin struck a match and soon the room was flooded with a new brightness that reached even to the far corners and seemed to set free the real loneliness that held these two together.
"I—I managed to keep this dry," McAlpin spoke huskily. "I always have a bite with me when I take to the woods. Who can ever tell what may happen!"
He pushed a coarse sandwich toward Priscilla and began eating one himself.
"Go on!" he said.
"I'm not hungry, Jerry-Jo, and I want to start back home at once."
Jerry-Jo leered at her over his bread and meat.
"What's your hurry? I want to get warm and dry before I set out again. This is an all-nighter of a storm, if I know anything about it."
"Get dry, of course, Jerry-Jo. It won't take long with this heat; then we must start, storm or no storm."
The old discomfort and unrest returned, and she fixed her eyes on Jerry-Jo.