"I will take you home, now," he said as he carried him out and
placed him in his buggy, and started off with him through the fury
of the storm, floundering among the snow drifts that brought even
the giant himself to his knees.

After she was left alone, Lena soon ceased weeping. She was
not of a particularly sensitive temperament, and had little
pride beyond that of vanity. After the first bitter anger wore
itself out, she felt nothing more than a healthy sense of
humiliation and defeat. She had no inclination to run away, for
she was married now, and in her eyes that was final and all
rebellion was useless. She knew nothing about a license, but she
knew that a preacher married folks. She consoled herself by
thinking that she had always intended to marry Canute someday,
anyway.

She grew tired of crying and looking into the fire, so she got
up and began to look about her. She had heard queer tales about
the inside of Canute's shanty, and her curiosity soon got the
better of her rage. One of the first things she noticed was the
new black suit of clothes hanging on the wall. She was dull, but
it did not take a vain woman long to interpret anything so
decidedly flattering, and she was pleased in spite of herself. As
she looked through the cupboard, the general air of neglect and
discomfort made her pity the man who lived there.

"Poor fellow, no wonder he wants to get married to get
somebody to wash up his dishes. Batchin's pretty hard on a man."