You could scarcely serve an injunction on him.
MRS. EPPINGWELL
I don't know what I'll do. Floyd Vanderlip is not the sort of man to appeal to. To try to impress him to do the right thing would be like setting fire to a powder mill. I wish I knew how near Flossie is. There hasn't been a courier or a mail carrier in for weeks and weeks. The mail from Dyea is twenty days overdue.
(Enter Mail Carrier, carrying leather mail-pouch. He is clad in a long squirrel-skin parka reaching to his knees, the hood drawn over his head and ears and leaving only jace exposed. Face and mouth are iced-up, making speech impossible. He does not stop to brush snow jrom moccasins, but proceeds rapidly to cross to stove.)
CAPT. EPPINGWELL
There is the man who can tell you about Flossie. Shall I ask him?
MRS. EPPINGWELL
Oh! the mail carrier? At last! And in the nick of time. Yes, do.
CAPT. EPPINGWELL
(Stepping into the path of the Mail Carrier.)