“Where are you going to sleep?” she asked anxiously.
“Down by the fire.”
“Near—him?”
“That won’t keep me awake.”
“But if he should work loose and attack you?”
“I’ll take precious good care of that.”
“It’s so far away!” she said plaintively.
“Twenty-five feet!” he said smiling.
“Couldn’t you—sleep close outside my tent where I could hear you breathing if I woke?”
He smiled, and gave her his eyes deep and clear. There comes a moment between every two who deeply love when shame naturally drops away, and to assume shame after that is the rankest hypocrisy. “I couldn’t,” he said simply.