Eve's head drooped; she said in a stifled voice: "I'll go with you. …
I want to. … I'm very — tired."
"We had better go now," said Darragh. "Your things can be brought over later. If you'll dress for snow-shoeing, Jack can pack what clothes you need. … Are there snow-shoes for him, too?"
Eve turned tragically to her lover: "In Dad's closet——" she said, choking; then turned and went up the stairs, still clinging to Ricca's hand and drawing her with her.
Stormont followed, entered Clinch's quarters, and presently came downstairs again, carrying Clinch's snow-shoes and a basket pack.
He seated himself near Darragh. After a silence: "Your wife is beautiful, Jim. … Her character seems to be even more beautiful. … She's like God's own messenger to Eve. … And — you're rather wonderful yourself——"
"Nonsense," said Darragh, "I've given my wife her first American friend and I've done a shrew stroke of business in nabbing the best business associate I ever heard of——"
"You're crazy but kind. … I hope I'll be some good. … One thing;
I'll never get over what you've done for Eve in this crisis——"
"There'll be no crisis, Jack. Marry, and hook up with me in business. That solves everything. … Lord! — what a life Eve has had! But you'll make it all up to her … all this loneliness and shame and misery of Clinch's Dump——"
Stormont touched his arm in caution: Eve and Ricca came down the stairs — the former now in the grey wool snow-shoe dress, and carrying her snow-shoes, black gown, and toilet articles.
Stormont began to stow away her effects in the basket pack; Darragh went over to her and took her hand.