"I see it now. My silly pretty face, my woman's body, my graces, seductions, all have been so much bait for Aunty's fishing. Bait! That's what I've been; bait to catch goldfish! And she brought me down here on the greatest fishing trip she's ever attempted."
"But you have a father."
"Yes. You will meet him Sunday. Well, I suppose I've bored you terribly. Thank you for your patience. It was a relief to talk to some one."
But she did not go. The mystery and companionship of the sub-tropical night was upon them with its sensuous caresses. All of Payne's hard-won man-strength seemed to leave him: he felt as weak as a child; and he began to stammer brokenly.
"Anything I can do—if I can help—what you spoke of—Back There in the jungle——?"
"No, no. Nobody can help me with that. It's got to be just myself. I know that now."
She was the more self-controlled. Payne could not speak. All that he wished to say—his strength, his life, at her call in her hour of need—he expressed in a gesture.
"Thank you."
She touched his outstretched hand. Instinctively their fingers locked together, instinctively she swayed toward him.
"Thank you."