She pointed, trembling. "At the end there, by the little gate—oh, the snow's awful!"
Astry and his men went down into it and she turned and looked at Charter.
"I thought it was you, John. I ran out—I think I must have been mad—for I didn't call any one; I just rushed out."
"You might have fallen in the drifts yourself! Oh, Rachel, my dear, my dear, you're mine—don't you see you are? I won't give you up!"
"I never thought of him, God forgive me! John, let me go—no, I must, he's—he's my husband—and I think I know almost where he fell!"
"They'll find him."
"John—"
They looked at each other mutely, then he drew the furs up about her throat and opened the door; together they went along the terrace.
"Rachel."
"Yes?"