He thought of the long miles back to Morgantown; no human being could walk that distance against this wind; not even a strong horse could make its way through the storm. If he went on with the wind, how long would it be before he reached a house? Before him, over range after range of hills, he saw no single sign of a building. If he reached some such place it would be the same story as the trip to Morgantown; men simply could not beat a way against that wind.
Then a cold hand touched his, and he looked up to find her eyes grave and wide once more, and her lips half smiling, as if she strove to deceive him.
"There's no chance of bringing help?"
He merely stared hungrily at her, and the loveliest thing he had ever seen was the play of golden hair beside her cheek. Her smile went out. She withdrew her hand, but she repeated:
"I'm not afraid. I'll simply grow numb and then fall asleep. But you go on and save yourself."
Seeing him shake his head, she caught his hands again, and so strongly that the chill of her touch filled his veins with an icy fire.
"I'll be unhappy. You'll make me so unhappy if you stay. Please go."
He raised the small, white hand and pressed it to his lips.
She said: "You are crying!"
"No, no!"