In the dim soft light of her room her face looked flushed and feverish, and vaguely he felt she was in a mood where she might listen to reason.

He felt her hot dry hand on his.

Her eyes were closed, she was smiling.
"Tell me the news from the mountains," she said.

And he gave her the gossip of the farm in a letter he had had from George.

It told of a picnic supper, the first one of the season.