"His club hours are usually rather late, I believe."
"And you'll wait around for him to come in the dark?"
"What else can I do? Can't expect him to 'phone me he's arrived."
"Oh!" she said, impulsively, "couldn't we build a wall of stone around enough of the fruit for just ourselves? I could help at that. I'd do so gladly!"
If an exquisite thrill shot directly to the deeps of Grenville's nature—a thrill aroused by her courage, her generous spirit, her honest and helpful sympathy—he permitted himself to make no sign. Also, he took no fulsome flattery to his soul. But he pictured her forth, with bleeding hands, and torn and grimy garments, as she rolled and carried great stones to the brink, to supply him with blocks for a wall; and his spirit was wondrously glad to think he had made no error of judgment in appraising her character.
That all she could do she would do, as mere assistance—do for anyone else in a similar situation, he comprehended fully. But he felt not a whit less exultant for the knowledge of the fact. She was never for a moment a mere useless dependent. She was daily, aye, hourly, assisting in his wholly unequal combat for their lives, and this was a joy to his heart.
But he spoke with his usual bluntness, and without a single hint of sympathy in all she had eagerly suggested.
"Wholly impractical scheme. I've thought of a dozen just as poor."
Elaine was instantly sorry she had proffered him her help. She placed a withe between her teeth, bit through it neatly, and began to divide it with her fingers.
"Here, don't do that. You'll spoil your teeth," said Grenville, brusquely. "I'll split you enough for half a day."