He understood her thoroughly.
"Quite an idea," he answered, briefly. "I was sure you understood the situation—— To-morrow I'll go and see what the blast accomplished. I shall have no more explosions, however—so I may not need a chaperon."
She was slightly hurt. His offhand speeches were not always absolutely welcome, despite her former attitude and declarations. After all, it was God, she told herself, who had brought this partnership into being. It was He who had cast her into exile with the bravest man she had ever known.
"You mean," she said, "you do not want me along."
"It's the tide that's ungallant," he said. "It objects to anyone's landing on the ledge."
"But you said I might be obliged to hide there later."
"I did, and till then—let's enjoy the sunshine—while it lasts."
Elaine said no more. The hint of inimical things to come sufficed once more to carry her thoughts away from all personal emotions.
They returned in silence to the terrace, Grenville first having urged his catamaran within the estuary, to secure it with the line. The commonplace duties of their daily existence were promptly resumed, and the cave as a topic was forgotten.
The following day, while he waited for the tide to rise to its highest level, Grenville completed the labor at the furnace, where additional vessels for water were being permitted to cool. The importance of being enabled to store an unusual quantity of water, should the need arise for such a storage, had early been presented to his mind. He was therefore particularly gratified to find this present firing of jugs considerably more successful than the first.