"A month!" He breathed the words as if in a dream.
"Yes, a month from to-day. You will go off on a snowshoe journey. You will never return, and they will think that you have died in the deep snows. You have promised me this. And you will not fail me?"
"What I have promised I will do," he replied, and his voice was now as calm as her own. "And for this one month--you are mine!"
"To love as I have given you love, yes."
For a moment he folded her in his arms; and then he drew back her hood so that he might lay a hand on her shining hair, and his eyes were filled with a wonderful illumination as he looked into her upturned face.
"A month is a long time, my Josephine," he whispered. "And after that month there are other months--years and years of them, and through years, if it must be, my
