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 knew she was not regarding dangers of water or of cold. She was gazing again toward the flicker of Alice's useless fire; and she was thinking—Dave was sure—of her own self and of Alice and him. She knew how she drew him; denial of it would be silly; he was here because he wanted to be; and she knew that. She knew, she must know, that he wished to be with her rather than with Alice.

On the shore, beside Alice's fire, appeared an oblong of light. "They've opened a boat house," said Dave. "They're trying to get out to us with a boat."

"That's good," Fidelia replied; and he knew that, whatever were her feelings the minute before, now she wanted the boat to come. But he did not; not yet. Away, he wanted to stay away with Fidelia Netley; and there was impulse in this desire greater than before. It strengthened from what she had told him. "He's dead," she had said; the man, who had meant most to her, was dead.

Dave had known nothing whatever about him; even now Dave did not know so much as his name. It made no difference; he was dead. There was a feeling of freedom for Dave in that knowledge which surprised him. He had not been conscious of a sensation of restraint with Fidelia Netley because of a man for whom she cared; he became aware that he had had it only now when it was lifted from him. He said to himself: "There was some one for her; of course I knew there had been some one for her. But he's dead."

It cleared away barriers between Fidelia and him, on her side.

He caught himself about and saw, before the boat-