“I didn't sleep very well,” she explained in a low voice.
His hand rested on her shoulder for a moment in a gentle caress. Then he sat down in the chair Jones had drawn out for him.
“Well, gentlemen, when does the relief boat start?” he asked, with a forced attempt at humour.
Mr Dawes regarded him with great solemnity.
“Freddy, it's too late. A man can be saved from the scourge, tigers, elephants, lions, snakes, and almost everything else in God's world, but, blast me, he can't be protected against women! They are deadly. They can overpower the strongest of men, sir. Your poor father is lost for ever. I never was so sorry for anyone in my life.”
“If he had only called for help a week or so ago, we could have saved him,” lamented Mr Riggs. “But he never even peeped. Lordy, Lordy, and just think of it, he yelled like an Indian when that lion leaped on him at Nairobi!”
“Poor old Jim!” sighed Mr Dawes. “He'll probably have to ask us to pull out, too. I imagine she'll insist on making a spare bedroom out of our room, so's she can entertain all of her infernal relations. Jones, will you give me some more bacon and another egg?”
“And I thought it was nothing but a shipwreck,” murmured Mr Riggs plaintively.
Frederic hurried through breakfast. Lydia followed him into the library.
“Are you going out, dear?” she asked anxiously.