"No carriage can get up here; the pines are too thick below, and there
is no road; but I will carry you down to where a vehicle can come, and
then get you one."

She took a glance at his spare figure. "You cannot carry me, you are
not strong enough I want you to get me a carriage or a wagon, please.
You can go to the hotel. We are stopping at the Springs."

By this time Gordon had forced the books into his pocket, and he squared
himself before her.

"Now," he said, without heeding her protest; and leaning down, he
slipped his arms under her and lifted her as tenderly and as easily as
if she had been a little girl.

As he bore her along, the pain subsided, and she found opportunity to
take a good look at his face. His profile was clean-cut; the mouth was
pleasant and curved slightly upward, but, under the weight he was
carrying, was so close shut as to bring out the chin boldly. The
cheekbones were rather high; the gray eyes were wide open and full of
light. And as he advanced, walking with easy strides where the path was
smooth, picking his way carefully where it was rough, the color rose
under the deep tan of his cheeks.

She was the first to break the silence. She had been watching the rising
color in his face, the dilation of his nostrils, and feeling the
quickening rise and fall of his chest.

"Put me down now and rest; you are tired."