Summary

Portrait of Anna Alice Chapin Anna Alice Chapin The Woman With a Past — IX.—By Way of Experience (1912–14)

He still stared into the fire, and Philippa still stared at him.
A wild burst of wind shook the little hut, sending flurries of snow under the rattling door, but neither of them noticed it. A silence was poised fast between them, and hung so, growing more and more tense every moment.
The night seemed full of voices. Were they warning, menacing, mocking—or all three? The strings of Pippa's life had been tautly strung, and she recognized an urgency that pervaded the atmosphere. She was not in the least afraid of the man. She was never afraid of anything.
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Portrait of Anna Alice Chapin Anna Alice Chapin The Woman With a Past — IX.—By Way of Experience (1912–14)

He had only gone to a shed near by where the trappers kept wood against just such times of need; he had been gone barely five minutes, yet already Pippa was restless. She was, however, able to realize the quaintness of the situation, and to smile wryly at the way the only man present becomes inevitably The Man upon whom a woman leans. Guide, king, knave, scholar, or fool—it made very little difference, philosophized Philippa—in times of trouble or danger, women were only too willing, like Portia, to let him pass for a man!
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Anna Alice Chapin Anna Alice Chapin The Woman With a Past — IX.—By Way of Experience (1912–14)

The realization of a new view of life is always rather staggering to the soul, Pippa was more adaptable, more sentient, and more imaginative than most women, and had a bigger outlook and a broader grasp of things; yet she felt as helpless as a little child as she sat there listening to the howling wind, and waiting for the guide to come back.
Source: Wikisource

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