anguish and thought of her island under the stars. The camp-fires — all their little household jokes and phrases and catch words — their furry beautiful cats — the lights agleam on the fairy islands — canoes skimming over Mistawis in the magic of morning — white birches shining among the dark spruces like beautiful women’s bodies — winter snows and rose-red sunset fires — lakes drunken with moonshine — all the delights of her lost paradise. She would not let herself think of Barney. Only of these lesser things. She could not endure to think of Barney.

Then she thought of him inescapably. She ached for him. She wanted his arms around her — his face against hers — his whispers in her ear. She recalled all his friendly looks and quips and jests — his