"Then I tore after you, shaking with fright as much as you were. I thought you were too frightened to look at me; and that you'd never do so and never recognise me."
"But I did!"
"And you saved me, dear little Sis!" Cyril had grown quite pink in the face, and was trying to keep back unmanly tears.
"Did you, too, see the Fish-King during the storm?" she interrupted, to change the subject.
"Yes. But he didn't get that ship he was after, for I stuck my huge self between him and it, and switchbacked myself when he clung to me, like one of those bucking horses, so he had no chance."
"Did he recognise you, do you think?"
"How could he? I didn't look much like the Philosopher he knew."
"How about that ship?"
"I was glad to see it right itself and drift away; the cries stopped, and the passengers pointed in my direction so excitedly."
"Perhaps they were grateful," suggested his sister.