Then he said very slowly, "I should be under the shadow always if I stay, and my friends would feel it even more deeply than I would do.

I may win the right to come back again if I go away." Maud Barrington made no answer, but both knew no further word could be spoken on that subject until, if fate ever willed it, the man returned again, and it was a relief when Miss Barrington came in with Dane.

He glanced at his comrade keenly, and then seeing the grimness in his face, quietly declined the white-haired lady's offer of hospitality.
Five minutes later the farewells were said, and Maud Barrington stood with the stinging flakes whirling about her in the doorway, while the sleigh slid out into the filmy whiteness that drove across the prairie.
When it vanished, she turned back into the warmth and brightness with a little shiver and one hand tightly closed.
The great room seemed very lonely when, while the wind moaned outside, she and her aunt sat down to dinner.

Neither of them appeared communicative, and both felt it a relief when the meal was over.

Then Maud Barrington smiled curiously as she rose and stood with hands stretched out towards the stove.
"Aunt," she said.