But “my woman, my mate” kept ringing in my head for the rest of the day and for many days. Yet never did it ring more loudly than that night, as I watched her draw back the blanket of moss from the coals, blow up the fire, and cook the evening meal. It must have been latent savagery stirring in me, for the old words, so bound up with the roots of the race, to grip me and thrill me. And grip and thrill they did, till I fell asleep, murmuring them to myself over and over again.
CHAPTER XXXI.
“It will smell,” I said, “but it will keep in the heat and keep out the rain and snow.”
We were surveying the completed seal-skin roof.
“It is clumsy, but it will serve the purpose, and that is the main thing,” I went on, yearning for her praise.
And she clapped her hands and declared that she was hugely pleased.
“But it is dark in here,” she said the next moment, her shoulders shrinking with a little involuntary shiver.
“You might have suggested a window when the walls were going up,” I said. “It was for you, and you should have seen the need of a window.”
“But I never do see the obvious, you know,” she laughed back. “And besides, you can knock a hole in the wall at any time.”
“Quite true; I had not thought of it,” I replied, wagging my head sagely. “But have you thought of ordering the window-glass? Just call up the firm,—Red, 4451, I think it is,—and tell them what size and kind of glass you wish.”