Enoch nodded.  “Will the snow make Bright Angel too difficult for you, Frank?”

“Me?  My Lord, no!  Do I look a tenderfoot?  We’ll start to-morrow morning and take two days to it.  Sit down, do!  I’ve a thousand questions to ask you.”

“Before I begin to answer them, Frank, tell me if there is any way in which I can send a telegram.  I must let my office know where I am, much as I regret the necessity.”

“You can telephone a message to the hotel,” replied Frank.  “They’ll take care of it.  But you realize that your traveling incog. will be all out if you do that?”

“Not necessarily!” Enoch chuckled.

Frank called the hotel on the telephone and handed the instrument to Enoch, who smiled as he gave the message.

“Mr. Charles Abbott, 8946 Blank Street, Washington, D. C. The boss can be reached now at El Tovar, Jonas.”

“But won’t Abbott wire you?” asked Frank.

“No, he’ll wire Jonas.  See if he doesn’t,” replied Enoch.  “And now for the questions.  Oh, Diana!” rising as Diana, in a brown silk house frock, came into the room.  “How lovely you look!  Doesn’t she, Frank?”

“She looks like her mother,” said Frank.  “Only she’ll never be quite as beautiful as Helen was.”

“’Whose beauty launched a thousand ships’!” Enoch exclaimed, smiling at Diana.  “My boyish memoir of Mrs. Allen is that she was dark.”

“She was darker than Diana, and not so tall.  Just as high as my breast; a fine mind in a lovely body!” Frank sighed deeply and stared at the fire.

Enoch, lying back in the great arm-chair, watched Diana with thoughtful, wistful eyes, until Frank roused himself, saying abruptly, “And now once more for the questions.  Enoch, what started you in politics?”

“Well,” replied Enoch, “that’s a large order, but I’ll try to tell the story.”  He began the tale, but was so constantly interrupted by Frank’s questions that luncheon was announced by Na-che, just as he finished.

After luncheon they returned again to the fire, and Frank, urged on by Enoch, told the story of his early days at the Canyon.  Perhaps Frank guessed that Enoch and Diana were in no mood for speech themselves, for he talked on and on, interrupted only by Enoch’s laughter, or quick word of sympathy.  Diana, her hands clasped loosely in her lap, watched the fire or stared at the snow drifts that the wind was piling against the window.  It seemed to Enoch that the shadows about her great eyes were deepening as the hours went on.

Suddenly Frank looked at his watch.  “Four o’clock!  I must go out to the corral.  Want to come along, Enoch?”

“I think not, Frank.  I’ll sit here with Diana, if you don’t mind.”

“I can stand it, if Diana can,” chuckled Frank, and a moment later a door slammed after him.

Enoch turned at once to Diana.  “Are you happy, dear?”

“Happy and unhappy; unbearably so!” replied Diana.