2.
The Professor laid down his book and gazed with an amiable smile towards Quest and Lenora.
“I fear,” he remarked dolefully, “that my little treatise on the fauna of the Northern Orinoco scarcely appeals to you, Mr. Quest.”
Quest, whose arm was in a sling but who was otherwise none the worse for his recent adventure, pointed out of the tent.
“Don’t you believe it, Professor,” he begged. “I’ve been listening to every word. But say, Lenora, just look at Laura and French!”
They all three peered anxiously out of the opening of the tent. Laura and the Inspector were very slowly approaching the cook wagon. Laura was carrying a large bunch of wild flowers, one of which she was in the act of fastening in French’s buttonhole.
“That fellow French has got grit,” Quest declared. “He sticks to it all the time. He’ll win out with Laura in the end, you mark my words.”
“I hope he will,” Lenora said. “She’s a dear girl, although she has got an idea into her head that she hates men and love-making. I think the Inspector’s just the man for her.”
The two had paused outside the cook wagon. Laura held out the flowers to the Chinaman.
“Can’t you find me a bowl for these?” she asked.