reach it."

"Possibly two, or two and a half," he said lightly.

"Yes; and another two at least to get back. I won't hear of you doing
any such thing--you are wet through now. It's far better to wait for
daylight and then probably the storm will be over."

"But don't you see, Miss Vail"--his voice was suddenly grave,
masterful--"don't you see that there is no other thing to do?"

"No," said Helena. "I don't see anything of the kind. I won't have you
do anything like that for me--it's not to be thought of."

Thornton stooped, placed a knot upon the fire, straightened up--and
faced her.

"It's awfully good of you to think of me," he said in a low tone; "but,
really, it won't be half as bad as you are picturing it in your mind.
And really"--he hesitated, fumbling for his words--"you see--that
is--what other people might say--your--reputation--"

With a sudden cry, white-faced, Helena was on her feet, staring at him,
her hands clutched at her bosom--a wild, demoniacal, mocking orgy in her
soul. Her reputation! It seemed she wanted to scream out the words--_her
reputation_!

Thornton's face flushed with a quick-sweeping flood of crimson.

"I'm a brute--a brute with a blundering tongue!" he cried miserably.