"Braver than Muhammed," she said quietly. "Because he was—good."
He debated a moment.
"As brave as the pig man, then?" he suggested. "He's been good, always?"
Aylmer stepped forward.
"Not always," he said smiling. "Not even often. But just as much as he knew how to be."
The glances which met his were startled but full of welcome. With a cackle of delight little John ran from his seat.
"It's him, himself—the pig man!" he cried.
Aylmer smiled and held out his hand.
Then he turned.
In Claire's eyes the surprise had vanished. They were full of inquiry, of an agony of question. Her lips were pale and faltered over the words which would not come.