“Sleep!” cried Loseis. “I shall never sleep again!”
“Please . . . please,” persisted Mary-Lou. “Please stop walking.”
“Go to bed, you,” said Loseis angrily. “Let me be by myself. Close the door after you.”
Mary-Lou went sadly out.
Loseis pressed her knuckles against her temples. I must be quiet! she told herself. I must think what I am doing! . . . Quiet! The only thing that would quiet me would be to go across and call him to the door and shoot him! Ah, then I could sleep! . . . I must not think such things! I must not! I must always be telling myself it would not end things to kill him; it would only begin worse things! . . . But what is the use? I know I shall suddenly kill him! If he lays hands on me! . . . If I were a man he would not dare! She flung her arms above her head. “O God! why didn’t you make me a man! It is too hard to be a girl!”
It had been dark for some time. To-night the silence was even more complete, for no child whimpered in the tepees, and no Slavi dog barked. Loseis was pulled up all standing by hearing a gentle tapping on the glass of the window alongside the kitchen door. These nights the inside shutters were always closed. She instinctively flew to her gun which was standing in the corner; but put it down again, smiling scornfully at herself. It was not in this manner that an attack would be made.
Returning to the window, she said firmly: “Who is there?”
A whisper came winging back: “Conacher.”
Loseis’ heart failed her; her legs wavered under her; she struggled to get her breath. Then in a flash life and joy came crowding back until she felt as if she would burst. She clapped a hand over her mouth to hold in the rising scream of joy. Gault must not know! “Oh, Paul! . . . Oh, Paul!” she murmured, fumbling blindly for the latch of the door.