He died, and I came to Ottawa as a draughtswoman for the young engineer, Balue.

I did not love Balue; he was tame.

And then Ottawa, with those sodden Canadians, their Scotch whiskey, and narrow lives framed in with snow--how I loathed them! What a weariness of the heart they were, those frozen people! Then came you--Storri!" The San Reve's gray-green eyes burned with white fire.

She got up from the couch where she had lain curled like a tawny lioness.
"Yes; you came!" purred the San Reve, and she stooped and kissed Storri with her fierce lips.

"Then for the first time I loved." The San Reve recurled herself on the couch.