The change of the relationship between Ridgway and his betrothed, brought about by the advent of a third person into his life, showed itself in the manner of their greeting. She had always been chary of lovers’ demonstrations, but until his return from Alpine he had been wont to exact his privilege in spite of her reluctance. Now he was content with the hand she offered him.
“You’ve had a strenuous night of it,” he said, after a glance at the rather wan face she offered the new day.
“Yes, we have—and for that matter, I suppose you have, too.”
Man of iron that he was, he looked fresh as morning dew. With his usual lack of self-consciousness, he had appropriated Leigh’s private bath, and was glowing from contact with ice-cold water and a crash towel.
“We’ve been making history,” he agreed. “How’s your friend?”
“She has no fever at all. It was only a scratch. She will be down to breakfast in a minute.”
“Good. She must be a thoroughbred to come running down into the bullets for a stranger she has never seen.”
“She is. You’ll like Laska.”
“I’m glad she saved Sam from being made a colander. I can’t help liking him, though he doesn’t approve of me very much.”
“I suppose not.”