In silence he built up the fire, fussed for a time with the lamp-wick, lighted a cigarette, took a turn across the cabin, inspected thoughtfully the back of one hand, and then lifted his gaze to Imogene.

She had been waiting, with a vague alarm.

And this his stern visage and burning eyes increased.
"Will Ruth marry me at once, do you think ?" he questioned.
"To-morrow--or the next day ?" His tone was calm.

He might have been speaking of the cabin, asking if it kept out the wind.
Imogene was dumbfounded by that voice and that inquiry.

She had expected anything but either.
"Not then; not so soon, I suspect," she said, at length.
"When?
At the end of a week, the end of a fortnight ?" "I can't say," she replied with a sensation now of being harried.
This would not do; she must get herself in hand.