“What ails those people?  Have they offended you?”

“I don’t know what it is.  I have spoken to them, but they cut me.”

“Cut you?” he exclaimed.

“Yes.”  Her voice trembled, but she held her head high.  “It seems as though all the women in Nome were here and in league to ignore me.  It dazes me—­I do not understand.”

“Has anybody said anything to you?” he inquired, fiercely.  “Any man, I mean?”

“No, no!  The men are kind.  It’s the women.”

“Come—­we’ll go home.”

“Indeed, we will not,” she said, proudly.  “I shall stay and face it out.  I have done nothing to run away from, and I intend to find out what is the matter.”

When he had surrendered her, at the beginning of the next dance, McNamara sought for some acquaintance whom he might question.  Most of the men in Nome either hated or feared him, but he espied one that he thought suited his purpose, and led him into a corner.

“I want you to answer a question.  No beating about the bush.  Understand?  I’m blunt, and I want you to be.”

“All right.”

“Your wife has been entertained at Miss Chester’s house.  I’ve seen her there.  To-night she refuses to speak to the girl.  She cut her dead, and I want to know what it’s about.”

“How should I know?”

“If you don’t know, I’ll ask you to find out.”

The other shook his head amusedly, at which McNamara flared up.

“I say you will, and you’ll make your wife apologize before she leaves this hall, too, or you’ll answer to me, man to man.  I won’t stand to have a girl like Miss Chester cold-decked by a bunch of mining-camp swells, and that goes as it lies.”  In his excitement, McNamara reverted to his Western idiom.

The other did not reply at once, for it is embarrassing to deal with a person who disregards the conventions utterly, and at the same time has the inclination and force to compel obedience.  The boss’s reputation had gone abroad.

“Well—­er—­I know about it in a general way, but of course I don’t go much on such things.  You’d better let it drop.”

“Go on.”

“There has been a lot of talk among the ladies about—­well, er—­ the fact is, it’s that young Glenister.  Mrs. Champian had the next state-room to them—­er—­him—­I should say—­on the way up from the States, and she saw things.  Now, as far as I’m concerned, a girl can do what she pleases, but Mrs. Champian has her own ideas of propriety.  From what my wife could learn, there’s some truth in the story, too, so you can’t blame her.”

With a word McNamara could have explained the gossip and made this man put his wife right, forcing through her an elucidation of the silly affair in such a way as to spare Helen’s feelings and cover the busy-tongued magpies with confusion.  Yet he hesitated.  It is a wise skipper who trims his sails to every breeze.  He thanked his informant and left him.  Entering the lobby, he saw the girl hurrying towards him.