"There you see," said McVay. "It's out of the question. The place is
draughty, too, though there is a stove. Do you remember the house at
all? You would be surprised to see how nicely I've fixed it up for her."

"No doubt I should," replied Holland, thinking of the Vaughan and
Marheim valuables.

"It is surprisingly livable, but it _is_ draughty," McVay went on. "The
truth is I ought to have gone south, as I meant to do last week. But one
cannot foresee everything. The winters have been open until Christmas so
often lately. However, I made a mistake and I am perfectly willing to
rectify it. If you have no objection, I'll go and bring her back here."

"If you have any respect for your skin you won't move from that chair."

"Oh, the devil, Holland, don't be so--" he hesitated for the right word,
not wishing to be unjust,--"so obtuse. Listen to that wind! It's cold
here. Think what it must be in that shanty."

"Very unpleasant, I should think."

"More than that, more than that,--suffering, I have no doubt. Why, she
might freeze to death if anything went wrong with the fire. It is not
safe. It's a distinct risk to leave her. Let alone that a storm like
this would scare any girl alone in a place like that, there is some
danger to her life. Don't you see that?"

"Yes, I see," returned Geoffrey, "but you ought to have thought of that
before you came burgling in a blizzard."