For a moment I thought she was going to take him at his word; then her anger fled.
“Thanks—Dick,” she said quietly.
And while I sat studying Ventnor, they put together a meal from the stores, brewed tea over the spirit-lamp with water from the bubbling spring. In these commonplaces I knew that she at least was finding relief from that strain of the abnormal under which we had labored so long. To my surprise I found that I was hungry, and with deep relief I watched Ruth partake of food and drink even though lightly.
About her seemed to hover something of the ethereal, elusive, and disquieting. Was it the strangely pellucid light that gave the effect, I wondered; and knew it was not, for as I scanned her covertly, there fell upon her face that shadow of inhuman tranquillity, of unearthly withdrawal which, I guessed, had more than anything else maddened Ventnor into his attack upon the Disk.
I watched her fight against it, drive it back. White lipped, she raised her head and met my gaze. And in her eyes I read both terror and—shame.
It came to me that painful as it might be for her the time for questioning had come.
“Ruth,” I said, “I know it's not necessary to remind you that we're in a tight place. Every fact and every scrap of knowledge that we can lay hold of is of the utmost importance in enabling us to determine our course.
“I'm going to repeat your brother's question—what did Norhala do to you? And what happened when you were floating before the Disk?”
The blaze of interest in Drake's eyes at these questions changed to amazement at her stricken recoil from them.
“There was nothing,” she whispered—then defiantly—“nothing. I don't know what you mean.”