"Which one?"
"Arabian."
Ryanne tried to sit up alone.
"Better not try to move. They banged you up at a great rate. Best thing you can do is to go to sleep. You'll be all right in the morning."
Ryanne sank back, and George bundled him up snugly. Poor devil!
"He'll pull himself together in the morning," he said to Fortune. "I did not know that you knew him well."
"I have known him for eight or nine years. He used to visit my uncle at our villa in Mentone." She smiled. "You look very odd."
"No odder than I feel," with an ineffectual attempt to bring together the ends of his collar-band. "I must be a sight. I was in too much of a hurry to get here. Did you eat the soup and fish?"
"The soup, yes; but I'm afraid that it will be some time before I can find the dried fish palatable. I hope my courage will not fail me," she added, the first sign of anxiety she had yet shown. She was very lonely, very tired, very sad.