spring morning, sufficiently warm to be comfortable without in the
sunshine, although the mountains overshadowing the town were yet white
with snow. The one long, straggling business street appeared
sufficiently lonely, being almost deserted, the shops closed. The
notable contrast between its present rather dreary desolation and the
wild revelry of the previous night seemed really painful, while the
solemn prevailing stillness served to weaken Winston's bold resolutions
and brought him a strange timidity. He slowly strolled a block or
more, peering in at the shop windows, yet never venturing beyond easy
view of the hotel steps. Then he sauntered as deliberately back again.
Lane and Mooney were now stationed upon the porch, tipping far back in
their chairs, their feet deposited on the convenient railing, smoking
and conversing noisily with a group of travelling men. Winston, to his
disgust, caught little scraps of the coarse stories exchanged,
constantly greeted by roars of laughter, but drew as far away from
their immediate vicinity as possible, leaning idly against the rail.
Far down the street, from some unseen steeple, a church bell rang
solemnly. Listening, he wondered if she would come alone, and a dread
lest she might not set his heart throbbing.

Albrecht, looking not unlike a fat hog newly shaven, sauntered out of
the open office door, and stared idly about. He spoke a gracious word
or two to his rather silent utility man, viewing his well-cut clothing
with some apparent misgiving, finally drifting over to join the more
congenial group beyond. Winston did not alter his chosen position, but
remained with watchful eyes never long straying from off the ladies'
entrance, a few steps to his left. All at once that slightly used door
opened, and the hot blood leaped through his veins as Miss Norvell
stepped forth unaccompanied. She appeared well groomed, looking dainty
enough in her blue skirt and jacket, her dark hair crowned by the