and she skated south along the edge of the widening lead of open water.
He followed her, glancing toward the shore. No one else had come; no one else was near. She reached open water leading eastward and she turned and skated back past their original point beside the water until she came to the third edge of the floe on the north.
"It's no use," he said again.
She agreed, "No." And she made no feminine suggestion of impossible proceedings such as to attempt to swim to the other edge of the water, scramble upon the ice and make a dash for shore. "I'm sorry," she said again, simply and sincerely.
"I'm not. A few hours on the ice won't hurt anybody."
"Where's it deciding to take us, do you suppose?" she asked and thrilled him with her word which had been his word upon that morning they saw the sunrise together and watched the floe from the shore. It gave him the feeling that she and he were upon that same floe which they had seen drifting on the horizon and that this evening was a direct continuation of that morning.
"We're headed for Michigan, if the wind holds," he replied gayly. "You have anything against Michigan?"
"Oh, I like Michigan."
"But I suppose," he qualified, "somebody will go to work and pick us up before we're half way there."
"It's a lovely, clear night," Fidelia said, comfortably.
