She got up very slowly. "I guess I ver' foolish," she murmured. She waited, obviously to give him a chance to speak. He was mum.
"I go back now," she whispered heart-brokenly, and turned toward her canoe.
With her hand on the prow she waited again, not looking at him, hoping against hope. There was something crushed and palpitating in her aspect like a wounded bird. Ambrose felt like a monster of cruelty.
Suddenly a fresh fear attacked him. "Nesis," he asked, "how will you explain being away overnight? They will connect it with my escape. What will they do to you?"
She turned her head, showing him a painful little smile. "You not think of that before," she murmured. "I not care what they do by me. You not love me."
He strode to her and clapped a rough hand on her shoulder. "Here, I couldn't have them hurt you!" he cried harshly. "You baby! You come with me. I'm in as bad as I can be already. A little more or less won't make any difference. I'll chance it, anyway. You come with me!"
"Oh, my Angleysman!" she breathed, and sank a little limp heap at his feet.
Ambrose blew up the forgotten fire and made tea. Nesis quickly revived. Having made up his mind to take her, he put the best possible face on it.
There were to be no more reproaches. Her pitiful anxiety not to anger him again made him wince. Her eyes never left his face. If he so much as frowned at an uncomfortable thought they became tragic.
"Look here, I'm not a brute!" he cried, exasperated.