"Yes, I am awake."
It seemed that the look she flashed me carried a warning. But whatever it was, I had no chance of pondering it, for it was driven from my mind by surprise at her next words.
"Awake, yes! And interested, hearing this Grant bargain with you for his life."
It surprised De Boer as well. But the alcholite had dulled his wits, and Jetta realized this, and presumed upon it.
"Ho!" exclaimed De Boer. "Our little bird is angry!"
"Not angry. It is contempt."
Her look to me now held contempt. It froze me with startled chagrin; but only for an instant, and then the truth swept me. Strange Jetta! I had thought of her only as a child; almost, but not quite a woman. A frightened little woodland fawn.
"Contempt, De Boer. Is he not a contemptuous fellow, this American?"
Again I caught her look and understood it. This was a different Jetta. No longer helplessly frightened, but a woman, fighting. She had heard De Boer calmly saying that he might send me back dead—and she was fighting now for me.
De Boer took another drink, and stared at her. "What is this?"