His eyes were wide when a match leaped into flame in Marette's fingers.
Then he stood in the glow of a lamp.
He continued to stare in the stupidity of a shock to which he was not accustomed.

Marette, as if to give him time to acquaint himself with his environment, was taking off her raincoat.

Under it her slim little figure was dry, except where the water had run down from her uncovered head to her shoulders.

He noticed that she wore a short skirt, and boots, adorably small boots of splendidly worked caribou.

And then suddenly she came toward him with both hands reaching out to him.
"Please shake hands and say you're glad," she said.