You must sleep.
Good-night."
"Good-night--Gordon."
There was a little flash of audacity in the whimsical twist of her
mouth. It was the first time she had ever called him by his given name.
Elliot threw away prudence and caught her by the hands.
"My dear--my dear!" he cried.
She trembled to his kiss, gave herself to his embrace with innocent
passion. Tendrils of hair, fine as silk, brushed his cheeks and sent
strange thrills through him.
They talked the incoherent language of lovers that is compounded of
murmurs and silences and the touch of lips and the meetings of eyes.
There were to be other nights in their lives as rich in memories as
this, but never another with quite the same delight.
Presently Sheba reminded him with a smile of the long trail he had
mentioned. Mrs. Olson bustled into the tent, and her presence stressed
the point.
"Good-night, neighbors," Gordon called back from outside the tent.
Sheba's "Good-night" echoed softly back to him.
The girl fell asleep to the sound of the light breeze slapping the tent
and to the doleful howling of the huskies.
CHAPTER XXVIII
A MESSAGE FROM THE DEAD
Macdonald drove his team into the teeth of the storm.
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