Again for a carefully timed pause the man was silent. Then abruptly,
obviously, he changed the subject.

"You said you were going away," he recalled. "Is it to be a wedding
journey?"

"Yes," tensely.

"Tell me of it, please; I wish to hear."

"You would not be interested."

"Elizabeth--" syllabalised, reproachfully. "Am I not your cousin?"

No answer.

"Haven't you forgiven me yet?" The voice was very low. Its owner was
again very near.

"You'd laugh at me if I told you," repressedly. "You wouldn't
understand."

Slowly, meaningly, Clayton Craig drew away--resumed the former position;
the place from which, unobserved, he could himself watch.

"We're going away out there," complied the girl suddenly, reluctantly.
Her hand indicated the trackless waste to the right. "Just the two of us
are going: How and I. We'll take a pack horse and a tent and How's camp
kit and stay out there alone until winter comes." Against her will she