It is the first time I ever looked into a
woman's eyes without being sure of the color of them. It was her
hair, Phil--not this tinsel sort of gold that makes you wonder if
it's real, but the kind you dream about. You may think me a loon,
but I'm going to find out who she is and where she is as soon as I
have done with this breakfast."
"And Lord Fitzhugh?"
A shadow passed over Gregson's face. For a few moments he ate in
silence. Then he said:
"That's what kept me awake after you had gone--thinking of Lord
Fitzhugh and this girl. See here, Phil. She isn't one of the kind
up here. There was breeding and blood in every inch of her, and
what I am wondering is if these two could be associated in any
way. I don't want it to be so. But--it's possible. Beautiful young
women like her don't come, traveling up to this knob-end of the
earth alone, do they?"
Philip did not pursue the subject. A quarter of an hour later the
two young men left the cabin, crossed the ridge, and walked
together down into Churchill. Gregson went to the Company's store,
while Philip entered the building occupied by Pearce. Pearce was
at his desk. He looked up with tired, puffy eyes, and his fat
hands lay limply before him.
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