She swayed almost imperceptibly toward him. Her voice was low pitched and a trifle broken with emotion:
"You saved my life—"
"I—? Oh, that was only what any other man—"
"None other did!"
"Please don't speak of it—I mean, consider it that way," he stammered. "What I want to know is, where are we?"
Her reply was more distant. "On an island, somewhere. It's uninhabited, I think."
He could only echo in bewilderment: "An island...! Uninhabited...!" Dismay assailed him. He got up, after a little struggle overcoming the resistance of stiff and sore limbs, and stood with a hand on the coaming of the dismantled cat-boat, raking the island with an incredulous stare.
"But those houses—?"
"There's no one in any of them, that I could find." She stirred from her place and offered him a hand. "Please help me up."
He turned eagerly, with a feeling of chagrin that she had needed to ask him. For an instant he had both her hands, warm and womanly, in his grasp, while she rose by his aid, and for an instant longer—possibly by way of reward. Then she disengaged them with gentle firmness.