"I think it wiser to prepare against a probable wait that may be rather long." He read and understood her impatience with the situation—a situation rendered infinitely more complicated and delicate by what he had dared to say and do the previous afternoon.
Once more black dreads that she dared not permit to reveal themselves completely arose to engulf her mind. She could not doubt that Grenville knew, far better than herself, how meager were their hopes of immediate rescue or escape from this exile in the sea. More than anything else, however, she wished to be worthy of and loyal to the man to whom her plighted word had been given. That she owed so much to Grenville already was an added irritation. A braver, finer spirit than she summoned to her needs never rose in a woman's breast.
Her eyes met his with a cold look of resolution in their depths.
"I know you will show me how to help. I must do my share in everything. Can you tell how long it must have been since anyone was here?"
Grenville had never thought her finer—never loved her so madly before. Yet he quelled the merry demons of his nature.
"No," he replied, as he took in his hand a bit of bone, bleached cleanly white. "I can't even understand why an island so abundantly supplied with fruits and game, to say nothing of useful woods and the like, should be so utterly abandoned. There seems to be nothing wrong with the place, and much that is quite in its favor."
"Perhaps that tiger," she suggested.
Sidney shook his head. "It's something that goes a bit deeper—at least, there may once have been something sinister. The natives of all this part of the world are rather accustomed to tigers."
Her sense of divination was exceedingly keen.
"You think there is something worse? You haven't already encountered something more——"