"What does the doctor say about her?"

Nap frowned. "He says very little. After the manner of his tribe, he is
afraid to commit himself; thinks there may be this injury or there may be
that, but says definitely nothing. I shall get someone down from town
to-morrow. I'd go tonight, only--" he broke off, hammering impotently
with his clenched fist on the arm of his chair. "I must be at hand
to-night," he said, after a moment, controlling himself. "The mater has
promised to call me if there is any change. You see," he spoke
half-apologetically, "she might feel kind of lonely waking up in a crowd
of strangers, and mine is the only face she knows."

Silence followed the words. Lucas had closed his eyes, and there was
nothing in his face to indicate the trend of his thoughts.

Nap sat with his face to the fire, and stared unblinkingly into the red
depths. There was no repose in his attitude, only the tension of
suppressed activity.

Softly at length his brother's voice came through the silence. "Why not
dine, dear fellow, while you are waiting? You will do no good to anyone
by starving yourself."

Nap looked round. "In Heaven's name, don't talk to me of eating!" he
said savagely. "You don't know what I've been through." Again he paused
to control himself, then added in a lower tone, "I thought she was dead,
you know."

"It was you who picked her up?" Lucas asked.