"Do I seem glad, Coira?" said he. And she said—
"You will be glad to-morrow—and always, I hope and pray. Always, always!"
The man held one hand over his aching eyes.
"I have," he said, "queer half-memories. I wish I could remember distinctly."
He looked up at her again.
"I dropped down by the gate in the wall. When I awoke I was in a room in the house. How did that happen?"
"Oh," she said, turning her face away, "we got you up to the house almost at once." But Ste. Marie frowned thoughtfully.
"'We'? Who do you mean by 'we'?"
"Well then, I," the girl said. "It was not difficult."
"Coira!" cried the man, "do you mean that you carried me bodily all that long distance? You?"