‘Yes—you were quite mad,’ he answered. ‘You fought windmills. That is always a bad sign.’
‘It is fortunate that I broke down just then. Suppose that I had held out long enough to go away and that I had fallen ill in some distant place, and that Hilda had not come—I should not have had much chance.’
‘No. I was very jealous of her, I remember.’
‘Why?’
‘Because she saved you, and I could not,’ answered Rex. ‘Because it is disagreeable for a selfish man to feel that a woman’s eyes are better than his skill or strength.’
Greif looked at his companion as though he did not quite understand, but the smile upon the latter’s face made matters somewhat clearer. He would not have liked to think that Rex was quite in earnest.
‘But for you,’ he answered, ‘I should have died long before Hilda came.’
‘Not at all. If you had shown signs of giving up the ghost earlier, I would have sent sooner. But it was a narrow escape. Another minute would have done it, as I have often told you.’
‘Do you know that I have not yet spoken to them about the marriage?’
‘Then there is no need of saying anything. They understand as well as you. You need only fix the wedding-day.’