A long lumbering ride it was, the cars creaking and rocking, reeling from side to side as if they too were drunk with weariness and cold.

At last Connie moved a little and lifted her lashes.  She lay very still a while, looking with puzzled eyes at her strange surroundings, enjoying the huge fire, wondering at that curious rocking.  Then, glancing at the big brown head beside her, where Prince sat on an overturned bucket with her hand in his, she closed her eyes again, still puzzled, but content.

Long minutes afterward she spoke.

“Are you cold, Prince?”

He tightened his clasp on her hand.

“No.”

“How did you ever make it?”

“The train came along and we got on.  Now we are thawing out,” he explained, smiling reassurance.

“I do not remember it.  I only remember that I was stuck in the snow, and that you did not leave me.”

“Here comes some more coffee, lady,” said the brakeman, coming up.  Connie drank it gratefully and sat up.

“Where are we going?”

“To Fort Morgan.”

“Want any more blankets or anything?” asked the brakeman kindly.  “Are you getting warm?”

“Too warm, I will have to move a little.”

Prince helped her gently farther from the roaring flames, and again pulled his bucket close to her side.  He placed his hand in her lap and Connie wriggled her fingers into his.

Suddenly she leaned forward and looked into his face, noting the steady steely eyes, the square strong chin, the boyish mouth.  Not a handsome face, like Jerry’s, not fine and pure, like David’s,—­but strong and kind, a face that somehow spoke wistfully of deep needs and secret longings.  Suddenly Connie felt that she was very happy, and in the same instant discovered that her eyes were wet.  She smiled.

“Connie,” whispered the big brown man, “are we going to get married, sometime?”

“Yes,” she whispered promptly, “sometime.  If you want me.”

His hands closed convulsively over hers.

“Make it soon,” he begged.  “It is terribly lonesome.”

“Two years,” she suggested, wrinkling her brows.  “But if it is too lonesome, we will make it one.”

“You won’t go away.”  Prince was aghast at the thought.

“I have to,” she told him, caressing his hand with her fingers.  “You know I believe I have a talent, and it says in the Bible if you do not use what is given you, all the other nice things you have may be taken away.  So if I don’t use that talent, I may lose it and you into the bargain.”

Prince did not understand that, but it sounded reasonable.  Whatever Connie said, of course.  She had a talent, all right, a dozen,—­a hundred of them.  He thought she had a monopoly on talents.

“I will go back a while and study and work and get ready to use the talent.  I have to finish getting ready first.  Then I will come and live with you and you can help me use it.  You won’t mind, will you?”