"Yes, she'll get a raking fore and aft." Then, he added, suddenly: "Of
course you know how we feel about our rescue. It was plucky of you."

"Pluckier in the girl," was the reply. "Brave enough," the honest
rejoinder.

Gaston had an impulse to say, "Shall I thank her for you?" but he was
conscious how little right he had to be ironical with Warren Gasgoyne,
and he held his peace.

While the two were now turned away towards the Kismet, Andree came to
Delia. She did not quite know how to comfort her, but she was a woman,
and perhaps a supporting arm would do something.

"There, there," she said, passing a hand round her shoulder, "you are all
right now. Don't cry!"

With a gasp of horror, Delia got to her feet, but swayed, and fell
fainting--into Andree's arms.

She awoke near the landing-place, her father beside her. Meanwhile
Andree had read the riddle. As Mr. Gasgoyne bathed Delia's face, and
Gaston her wrists, and gave her brandy, she sat still and intent,
watching. Tears and fainting! Would she--Andree-have given way like
that in the same circumstances? No. But this girl--Delia--was of a
different order: was that it? All nerves and sentiment! At one of those
lunches in the grand world she had seen a lady burst into tears suddenly
at some one's reference to Senegal. She herself had only cried four
times, that she remembered; when her mother died; when her father was