There was a little flash of audacity in the whimsical twist of her mouth. It was the first time she had ever called him by his given name.
Elliot threw away prudence and caught her by the hands.
"My dear—my dear!" he cried.
She trembled to his kiss, gave herself to his embrace with innocent passion. Tendrils of hair, fine as silk, brushed his cheeks and sent strange thrills through him.
They talked the incoherent language of lovers that is compounded of murmurs and silences and the touch of lips and the meetings of eyes. There were to be other nights in their lives as rich in memories as this, but never another with quite the same delight.
Presently Sheba reminded him with a smile of the long trail he had mentioned. Mrs. Olson bustled into the tent, and her presence stressed the point.
"Good-night, neighbors," Gordon called back from outside the tent.
Sheba's "Good-night" echoed softly back to him.
The girl fell asleep to the sound of the light breeze slapping the tent and to the doleful howling of the huskies.