He had a tedious
struggle against the wind and thickening snow, but finally came in
sight of the town, not long before dark. Here the road led down into a
depression, and, lifting his head as he began the slight ascent on the
other side, Fred was aware of two figures outlined upon the low ridge
before him. They were dimmed by the driving snow and their backs were
toward him, but he recognized them with perfect assurance. They were
Dora Yocum and Ramsey Milholland.
They were walking so slowly that their advance was almost imperceptible,
but it could be seen that Dora was talking with great animation; and
she was a graceful thing, thus gesticulating, in her long, slim fur coat
with the white snow frosting her brown fur cap. Ramsey had his hands
deep in his overcoat pockets and his manner was wholly that of an
audience.
Fred murmured to himself, "'What did you say to her?' 'Nothin'. I
started to, but'--" Then he put on a burst of speed and passed them,
sweeping off his hat with operatic deference, yet hurrying by as if
fearful of being thought a killjoy if he lingered.
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