She felt that she had passed a difficult corner, and that now she could go on talking with him again, just as she had been used to do before she understood what was the matter with her. Her courage and her presence of mind had alike deserted her. Presently they came to a wall, on the other side of which the dog began to bark violently; but Blueskin tossed him a piece of prepared meat, and uttering a low growl, he became silent. He was wrapped in a laced roquelaure, which he threw off on his entrance into the room. Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces.
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