Many times at home, when she was dressing for dinner, she had gazed into the mirror at the graceful lines of her throat and arms, at the proud poise of her head, at the alabaster whiteness of her skin, and wonderingly she had asked of her image: "Can it be possible that I am a descendant of cavemen ?" She had never been able to realize it, yet she knew it was true.

Perhaps somewhere not far back along her line there had been a great-great-grandmother who had lived some kind of a primitive life, using such implements and necessaries as hung on this cabin wall, and thereby helped some man to conquer the wilderness, to live in it, and reproduce his kind.

Like flashes Glenn's words came back to Carley--"Work and children!" Some interpretation of his meaning and how it related to this hour held aloof from Carley.

If she would ever be big enough to understand it and broad enough to accept it the time was far distant.

Just now she was sore and sick physically, and therefore certainly not in a receptive state of mind.