"I must be in rotten condition, going to pieces like that. Why, look at you—been through twice as much."
"Oh, no," she answered, snatching greedily at the opportunity of telling a little of what she had been thinking. "Did I drive two hundred and fifty miles in the dark, at fifty miles an hour? Did I climb and crawl, and fight, and nurse a squealing girl after carrying her for miles?"
"Three hundred yards," said Dick dryly. "And you must have been shamming to know anything about it."
"Mrs. Brundage told me," she answered, "that you came through the wood carrying me in your arms."
And so was he in hers—the reversal of their cases struck him like a soft, heavy blow on the heart.
And so much puzzled was Amaryllis by the strange intensity of his eyes lifted to hers that she found the gaze hard to endure, and moved uneasily.
"We ought not to stay here, Dick," she said.
He started scrambling to his feet, but Amaryllis was before him, and giving him a hand, helped him to rise with a pull of which the vigour surprised him.
"You're strong," he said, swaying unsteadily for a moment.
She flushed with pleasure at male praise.