"I've got the fire on," said Luke. "Hang your wet clothes here in front of the stove." Not only were there flames in the fireplace, but the old wood cooking-stove was also throwing off heat. Luke was pulling tins out of a cupboard in the little cabin and she felt her stomach spasm in response. She closed the door to the outside and felt as if she'd just shut out the rest of the world with the storm, sealing herself inside with Luke, self-consciously aware of her own nakedness under the rough wool blanket. "What do you think of tinned stew?" he asked. "And baby peas? There's a pile of some kind of tinned luncheon meat here—the ingredients are enough to scare me off—mostly sawdust, I think." "The stew sounds better." Uneasily, she moved away from him and concentrated on spreading her wet clothes to dry near the fire. "I've got some cheese sandwiches in my pack. We could have them with the stew. The bath was lovely. I never dreamed I'd have a hot bath when we landed here—I had no idea how cold I was until I got into that hot water.
