The girl awoke me; and I felt my face burning as I beheld her standing there, staring down accusingly, the hunting-shirt spread across my chest. I sprang to my feet and slipped into the shirt, which was made like a coat, and waited for her to speak.
“So you’ve been sleeping cold,” she said.
“Nay. Very warm,” I replied, becoming busy with my moccasins.
“After this I will keep awake nights.”
“I did not need it. I always take it off at night It makes me too warm.”
“You lie most beautifully, Basdel.”
“How is the arm this morning?”
“Much better. But you must be more honest with me. You must not lie any more.”
“You’re making a mountain out of a hunting-shirt. It is too warm to wear at night in this mild weather.”
“You’re hopeless. Of course it is not too warm in the warm sunshine.”