"H'm!" said Grenville, rubbing the corner of his jaw, "you probably also mean to suppose we were always unmolested."
"Why, yes, of course. Who could come to molest us here?"
"Molesters," he said, "if anyone. But perhaps they never would."
He had given no answer to her question, which she hardly cared to repeat. It was one of the times, which frequently came, when she could not prevent herself from wondering if this strong, primal man she had once called a brute could have utterly forgotten the passionate declaration made on the steamship "Inca" the day before the wreck.
She wondered also, had he meant it at the time? Or had one of his many inscrutable moods possessed him, barely for the moment? She had never dared recently confess to herself what feelings might instantly invade her tingling nature should she learn he had only pretended, perhaps on some wager with Gerald, as a test of her faithfulness and love.
It was womanlike, merely, on her part, to desire to know his mind. No woman may long resent being loved by a strong and masterful man. And Elaine was delightfully typical of all her delightful sex.
"Well," she presently said, "we've been here now much longer than we ever expected that day when we arrived."
His gaze, which had been averted, now swung to a meeting with her own. She had never seemed lovelier, braver, more sweetly disposed than now. The moonlight deepened her luminous eyes till the man fairly held his breath.
"Elaine," he said, finally, glancing once more towards the silvered sea, "what is your notion of love?"
The shock of the word threw all her wits into confusion.