Stephen turned white. He felt she was capable of doing any mad thing when he met those mocking, sparkling eyes.
"Oh—I—I—would rather lose the book," he stammered, in an agony to see the gold safely put back. "I could replace that, you know."
Katrine advanced to him, balancing the pan as if weighing it.
"Stephen, this is very heavy," she said, looking him straight in the eyes.
"Let me take it from you," he said, eagerly stretching out his hands.
"Do you know what makes it so?" she said, still balancing it and still looking at him. "Your soul is in it!" and she gave it back to him.
Stephen reddened angrily, and took both the book and the gold from her and replaced them sulkily on the shelf. Katrine had turned her back and walked over to the fire, humming.
"What a royal couch you've made me!" she remarked, breaking the awkward silence that followed, and looking down on the pile of red blankets he had spread in front of the stove.
He had, in fact, stripped his own bed and collected blankets from every corner to make a comfortable resting-place for her. Before Stephen could answer he was summoned to the door. Talbot looked in upon them, but would not come inside.
"I've sent Will off," he said; "he swore like anything, but he is gone. No, thanks, Steve, I won't come in. I'm tired, and going to my own cabin now. See you at breakfast. Good-night," and before Katrine could thank him he was gone.