“It does not require thinking. I know. Have you ever noticed that it was easy to make women care for you?”
His dubious innocence was superb.
“It is very easy. And why? Because you are masculine. You strike the deepest chords of a woman’s heart. You are something to cling to,—big-muscled, strong, and brave. In short, because you are a man.”
She shot a glance at the clock. It was half after the hour. She had given a margin of thirty minutes to Sitka Charley; and it did not matter, now, when Devereaux arrived. Her work was done. She lifted her head, laughed her genuine mirth, slipped her hand clear, and rising to her feet called the maid.
“Alice, help Mr. Vanderlip on with his parka. His mittens are on the sill by the stove.”
The man could not understand.
“Let me thank you for your kindness, Floyd. Your time was invaluable to me, and it was indeed good of you. The turning to the left, as you leave the cabin, leads the quickest to the water-hole. Good-night. I am going to bed.”
Floyd Vanderlip employed strong words to express his perplexity and disappointment. Alice did not like to hear men swear, so dropped his parka on the floor and tossed his mittens on top of it. Then he made a break for Freda, and she ruined her retreat to the inner room by tripping over the parka. He brought her up standing with a rude grip on the wrist. But she only laughed. She was not afraid of men. Had they not wrought their worst with her, and did she not still endure?
“Don’t be rough,” she said finally. “On second thought,” here she looked at his detaining hand, “I’ve decided not to go to bed yet a while. Do sit down and be comfortable instead of ridiculous. Any questions?”
“Yes, my lady, and reckoning, too.” He still kept his hold. “What do you know about the water-hole? What did you mean by—no, never mind. One question at a time.”