They all joined in the discussion of the event except Paula, who sat distrait and silent, gazing into the fire, and Barry, who lay, drowsy and relaxed, on a blanket not far from her side.
“You ought to go to bed,” said Paula at length in a low voice to him. “You need a good night's sleep.”
“I'm too tired to sleep,” said Barry. “I feel rather rotten, in fact. I ought to feel very grateful, but somehow I just feel rotten.”
“Can one be grateful and feel rotten at the same time?” said Paula, making talk.
“Behold me,” replied Barry. “I know I am grateful, but I do feel rotten. I don't think I have even thanked you for risking your life for me,” he added, turning toward her.
“Risking my life? Nonsense! I paddled 'round in the canoe for a bit, till two strong men came to tow me in, and would have, if I had allowed them. Thank the boys, who got you in time.” She shuddered as she spoke.
“I do thank them, and I do feel grateful to them,” said Barry. “It was rather a near thing. You see, I let him grip me. I choked him off my arms, but he slid down to my thigh, and I could not kick him off. Had to practically drown him. Even then he hung on.”
“Oh, don't speak about it,” she said with a shudder, covering her face with her hands. “It was too awful, and it might have been the end of you.” Her voice broke a little.
“No, not an end,” answered Barry, in a quiet voice. “Not the end by a long way, not by a very long way.”
“What do you mean? Oh, you are thinking of immortality, and all that,” said Paula. “It's a chilly, ghostly subject. It makes me shiver. I get little comfort out of it.”