She obeyed, anxiously. What a pretty, appealing little face it was! She wondered how she looked in the role of heroine in 'Out of The Storm.'
"No frost-bite," he remarked to himself. "You must take your hat and coat off, though, till you get over this. Your gloves, too. Absurd little gloves for this country! Must get gauntlets! Mac should have told you."
The intimate 'Mac,' establishing a bond between them, she liked and the implied censure of her absent husband she fancied even more.
"Should he?" she asked, smiling woefully. "Mac doesn't take the care of me he ought."
He felt her hands. Did he—she wondered—feel the thrill which then went through her?
He did not answer the smile.
"They aren't cold," he said thoughtfully.
"They were," she answered.
"Well, it's safe to warm you up, which is a good thing. You won't lose any fingers this time. Come, off with that hat and coat. I've some brandy somewhere."
She stood up and removed her wraps. He assisted her with a grave, courtly grace such as MacFarlane could never show, for the reason that it was not in him.