eight o'clock
That part of her life had touched her only as her awful experience with Crothers had done ; except that Lans had gained her confidence in Man while Crothers had imperilled it . The real self of Cynthia was pure and untouched ; ready to offer now , to offer itself , upon the true altar of love and consecration . Nothing could change that ; nothing could blind her to it ; but over and through the knowledge ran the discord of suggestion left by the contact with convention , down , and far , from Lost Mountain . It was eight o'clock when Cynthia gained her triumph over the claim upon her , and cloaked and hooded , started out . She wore her own , old cloak and the red hood that Marcia Lowe 's loving fingers had knitted for her . Sandy must not be disappointed in her ; it must be little Cyn , not the Cynthia Lans Treadwell had claimed , who was to put forth her appeal for help . The crisp , starry night was still and fine ; the walk from Trouble Neck to Sandy 's cabin brought the blood to the pale cheeks , light to the large eyes .