"Did you want to take them off?"
Winnie sat silent again, shrugging her shoulders to the chill air. But presently the fire caught, and the premonitory snapping and crackling of the kindling wood gave notice of a sudden change of temperature. Winnie's feelings took the cheery influence of the promise and she began to talk in a more hearty strain.
"Is this your room, Winthrop?"
"This is my room, Winnie. Yours is there, next to it."
"Through that door?"
"No — through the entry; — that is the door of my storehouse."
Winnie got up to look at it.
"'Tisn't a very large storehouse," was her conclusion.
"And not much in it. But the large storehouses are not far off, Winnie. Shall I leave you here for five minutes, while I go to get something from one of them?"
"Do you mean out of doors? — from the shops?"