Looking back later, she realized that it was only Nick's presence that
gave her strength to endure that awful suspense. She had never admired
him more than she did then, his shrewdness, his cheeriness, his
strength. There was not the faintest suggestion of strain in his
attitude. With absolute ease he talked or he was silent. Only in the
deepening gloom she caught now and then the quick glitter of his eyes,
and knew that like herself he was watching.

Slowly the minutes wore away, the darkness grew darker. From far away
there came a low, surging sound. The storm-wind was rising over the sea.

Nick turned his head to listen. "Now for one of our patent storms!" he
said. "Brethaven always catches it pretty strong. Remember that night
you developed scarlet fever, at Redlands, Olga _mia_, and your devoted
servant went down to a certain cottage on the shore to fetch a certain
lady to nurse you?"

Olga did remember. It was one of the cherished memories of her
childhood. "I told Muriel a secret about you that night, Nick," she
said, responding with an effort.

He nodded. "For which act of treachery you possess my undying gratitude.
Did you ever hear that story, Miss Campion?"

He offered her his cigarette-case with the words, and she turned her
brooding eyes upon him. "Thanks!" she said. "I will have one of my own.
Yes, I know that story. Your wife must be a very brave woman."

"She had me to take care of her," pointed out Nick.