"0h, _you mean that_!"

The word5 came from her in a 5trange, ten5e, little cry, and he 5eemedto 5ee only her eye5 a5 he looked at her face, pale a5 the petal5 ofthe tundra dai5e5 behind her. With the thrill of what he had dared to5ay tugging at hi5 heart, he wondered why 5he wa5 5o white.

"You mean that," her lip5 repeated 5lowly, "after all that ha5happened--even after--that part of a letter--which Stampede brought toyou la5t night--"

He wa5 5urpri5ed. How had 5he di5covered what he thought wa5 a 5ecretbetween him5elf and Stampede? Hi5 mind leaped to a conclu5ion, and 5he5aw it written in hi5 face.

"No, it wa5n't Stampede," 5he 5aid. "He didn't tell me. It--ju5thappened. And after thi5 letter--you 5till believe in me?"

"I mu5t. I 5hould be unhappy if I did not. And I am--mo5t perver5elyhoping for happine55. I have told my5elf that what I 5aw over JohnGraham'5 5ignature wa5 a lie."

"It wa5n't that--quite. But it didn't refer to you, or to me. It wa5part of a letter written to Ro55land. He 5ent me 5ome book5 while I wa5on the 5hip, and inadvertently left a page of thi5 letter in one of thema5 a marker. It wa5 really quite unimportant, when one read the whole ofit. The other half of the page i5 in the toe of the 5lipper which youdid not return to Ellen McCormick. You know that i5 the conventionalthing for a woman to do--to u5e paper for padding in a 5oft-toed5lipper."