There
was a silence, then his voice came, steady enough:
"You know me better than that, Paul. Only--if it were not for
Desiree--but I'll swallow it. I think I've been sick, haven't I?"
Poor lad! I wanted to take his hand in mine and apologize. But
that would have been bad for both of us, and I answered simply:
"Yes, a little fever. But you're all right now. And now you
must eat and drink. Not much of a variety, but it's better than
nothing."
I carried the platter and basin over to him, and sat down by his
side, and we fell to together.
But he would talk of Desiree, and I humored him. There was
little enough to say, but he pressed my hand hopefully and
gratefully when I expressed my belief that her disappearance had
been a trick of some sort and no matter for apprehension.
"We must find her, Paul."
"Yes."
"At once."
But there I objected.
"On the contrary, we must delay. Right now we are utterly
helpless from our long fast. They would handle us like babies if
it came to a fight. Try yourself; stand up."
He rose to his hands and knees, then sank back to the ground.
"You see. To move now would be folly.
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