“Never mind that. Fasten that fur thing closer round your throat and come on. There’s no taking chances in a blizzard like this. Don’t you understand?”—almost roughly. “If we waste time we may have to spend the night here.”
Impelled by the sudden urgency of his tones, Jean followed him swiftly out of the hut, and the wind, as though baulked by her haste, snatched the door from her grasp and drove it to with a menacing thud behind them.
CHAPTER V—AMONG THE SNOWS
AS Jean stepped outside the hut it seemed as though she had walked straight into the heart of the storm. The bitter, ice-laden blast that bore down from the mountains caught away her breath, the fine driving flakes, crystal-hard, whipped her face, almost blinding her with the fury of their onslaught, whilst her feet slipped and slid on the newly fallen snow as she trudged along beside the Englishman.
“This is a good preparation for a dance!” she gasped breathlessly, forcing her chilled lips to a smile.
“For a dance? What dance?”
“There’s a fancy dress ball at the hotel to-night. There won’t be—much of me—left to dance, will there?”
The Englishman laughed suddenly.