"I liked you," he said under his breath. "It wasn't your fault. And it wasn't mine, Mike. … I'll try to square things. Don't worry."
He came back slowly to where Stormont was standing near the door:
"Jack," he said, "you can't marry Eve on a Trooper's pay. Why not quit and take over the Harrod estate? … You and I can go into business together later if you like."
After a pause: "That's rather wonderful of you, Jim," said Stormont, "but you don't know what sort of business man I'd make——"
"I know what sort of officer you made. … I'm taking no chance. … And I'll make my peace with Eve — or somebody will do it for me. .. Is it settled then?"
"Thanks," said Trooper Stormont, reddening. They clasped hands. Then Stormont went about and lighted the candles in the room. Clinch's face, again revealed, was still faintly amused at something or other. The dead have much to be amused at.
As Darragh was about to go, Stormont said: "We're burying Clinch at eleven to-morrow morning. The Ghost Lake Pilot officiates."
"I'll come if it won't upset Eve," said Darragh.
"She won't notice anybody, I fancy," remarked Stormont.
He stood by the veranda and watched Darragh take the Lake Trail through the snow. Finally the glimmer of his swinging lantern was lost in the woods and Stormont mounted the stairs once more, stood silently by Eve's open door, realised she was still heavily asleep, and seated himself on a chair outside her door to watch and wait.