figures at midnight on an empty rink. Quite natural it was, and right.
She wore grey clothes of some kind, though not the customary long gloves
or sweater, for indeed her hands were bare, and presently when he skated
with her, he wondered with something like astonishment at their dry and
icy coldness.

And she was delicious to skate with--supple, sure, and light, fast as a
man yet with the freedom of a child, sinuous and steady at the same
time. Her flexibility made him wonder, and when he asked where she had
learned she murmured--he caught the breath against his ear and recalled
later that it was singularly cold--that she could hardly tell, for she
had been accustomed to the ice ever since she could remember.

But her face he never properly saw. A muffler of white fur buried her
neck to the ears, and her cap came over the eyes. He only saw that she
was young. Nor could he gather her hotel or chalet, for she pointed
vaguely, when he asked her, up the slopes. "Just over there--" she said,
quickly taking his hand again. He did not press her; no doubt she wished
to hide her escapade. And the touch of her hand thrilled him more than
anything he could remember; even through his thick glove he felt the
softness of that cold and delicate softness.

The clouds thickened over the mountains. It grew darker. They talked
very little, and did not always skate together. Often they separated,
curving about in corners by themselves, but always coming together again
in the centre of the rink; and when she left him thus Hibbert was
conscious of--yes, of missing her. He found a peculiar satisfaction,
almost a fascination, in skating by her side. It was quite an
adventure--these two strangers with the ice and snow and night!