“Why, no, certainly not!” replied Glenn.  “Anyway, how could I answer such a question?  It just made me laugh, that’s all.”

“Humph!  I can remember when you were not above making love to a pretty girl.  You certainly had me worn to a frazzle—­before we became engaged,” said Carley.

“Old times!  How long ago they seem! . . .  Carley, it’s sure wonderful to see you.”

“How do you like my gown?” asked Carley, pirouetting for his benefit.

“Well, what little there is of it is beautiful,” he replied, with a slow smile.  “I always liked you best in white.  Did you remember?”

“Yes.  I got the gown for you.  And I’ll never wear it except for you.”

“Same old coquette—­same old eternal feminine,” he said, half sadly.  “You know when you look stunning. . . .  But, Carley, the cut of that—­or rather the abbreviation of it—­inclines me to think that style for women’s clothes has not changed for the better.  In fact, it’s worse than two years ago in Paris and later in New York.  Where will you women draw the line?”

“Women are slaves to the prevailing mode,” rejoined Carley.  “I don’t imagine women who dress would ever draw a line, if fashion went on dictating.”

“But would they care so much—­if they had to work—­plenty of work—­and children?” inquired Glenn, wistfully.

“Glenn!  Work and children for modern women?  Why, you are dreaming!” said Carley, with a laugh.

She saw him gaze thoughtfully into the glowing embers of the fire, and as she watched him her quick intuition grasped a subtle change in his mood.  It brought a sternness to his face.  She could hardly realize she was looking at the Glenn Kilbourne of old.

“Come close to the fire,” he said, and pulled up a chair for her.  Then he threw more wood upon the red coals.  “You must be careful not to catch cold out here.  The altitude makes a cold dangerous.  And that gown is no protection.”

“Glenn, one chair used to be enough for us,” she said, archly, standing beside him.

But he did not respond to her hint, and, a little affronted, she accepted the proffered chair.  Then he began to ask questions rapidly.  He was eager for news from home—­from his people—­from old friends.  However he did not inquire of Carley about her friends.  She talked unremittingly for an hour, before she satisfied his hunger.  But when her turn came to ask questions she found him reticent.

He had fallen upon rather hard days at first out here in the West; then his health had begun to improve; and as soon as he was able to work his condition rapidly changed for the better; and now he was getting along pretty well.  Carley felt hurt at his apparent disinclination to confide in her.  The strong cast of his face, as if it had been chiseled in bronze; the stern set of his lips and the jaw that protruded lean and square cut; the quiet masked light of his eyes; the coarse roughness of his brown hands, mute