“Laurentia!” murmured Gault in a fond voice. “What an odd name.”
“I believe I was named after a chain of mountains,” said Loseis dryly.
“But how dignified and melodious!” he said. “Laurentia . . . Laurentia . . . !”
She shot an irritated glance at him through her lashes. Had the man nothing better to do than to stand there mouthing her name in that ridiculous fashion! Loseis privately detested her name. Jane would have been more to her fancy.
Gault gathered up the sheets, and made as if to go. At the door he paused: “I say,” he said, like one speaking to a child, “isn’t there something at Fort Good Hope that you would like my messenger to bring back to you? I have a regular ‘outside’ store at Good Hope, you know.”
“Oh, no, thank you,” said Loseis quickly. “Nothing at all!”
“Just the same,” said Gault with that arch smile of his, “I will see if we cannot find something that will please you!”
As he went through the door Loseis involuntarily flung up her arms crying: “Oh, give me air! Give me air!”
Mary-Lou came running in to see what was the matter.
Loseis kicked a fur rug violently to one side, and banged open the little window. “Oh, that man is like a bearskin tied over one’s head; like a feather bed upon one!” she cried. Standing back from the window she angrily apostrophized the receding figure of Gault. “Yes, you! you! If I have to see you every day I shall suffocate!” Turning around and beholding the amazed figure of Mary-Lou, Loseis suddenly embraced her, and dropping her head on her shoulder, burst into tears.