"Thanks," said Hermia. "I'm not hungry."
"But you can't get on without food."
"I'm not hungry," she repeated.
"Do you feel ill? Perhaps—"
"No. I'm all right again—quite all right. I don't know what made me feel faint. I've never done such a thing in all my life before. But you needn't worry. I'm not going to faint again."
Markham recalled the cigarette and believed her.
"But you can't get along all morning without food," he said.
She looked away from him toward the shore of the mainland where the towers of "Wake-Robin" made a gray smudge against the trees.
"Oh, yes, I can," she said shortly.
Markham eyed her curiously for a moment, then turned on his heel and went abruptly into the cabin whence he presently emerged carrying a tray which bore a cup of steaming coffee, some toast and an egg. Before she was well aware of it, he had placed the tray on her lap, and stood before her, his six feet of stature dominating.