. He had remembered that night
in England, he knew her step and voice, and his rambling talk had caused
her a thrill, for she remembered the night in England well. Brandon had
shielded her from a man whom she had good ground for wishing to avoid. He
had, no doubt, not quite understood the situation, but had seen that she
needed help and chivalrously offered it. She knew he could be trusted and
had without much hesitation made her unconventional request. He had then
been marked by strong vitality and cheerful confidence, but he was ill
and helpless now, and his weakness appealed to her as his vigor had not
done. He was, in a way, dependent on her, and Clare felt glad this was
so. She blushed as she smoothed the coverlet across his shoulders and
then quietly stole away.

There was no sea breeze next morning and the sun shone through a yellow
haze that seemed to intensify the heat. The white walls reflected a
curious subdued light that was more trying to the eyes than the usual
glare, and the beat of the surf was slow and languid. The air was still
and heavy, and Dick's fever, which had been abating, recovered force. He
was hot and irritable, and his restlessness did not vanish until Clare
came in at noon.

"I've been watching for you since daybreak, and you might have come
before," he said. "Lucille means well, but she's clumsy. She doesn't help
one to be quiet as you do."

"You're not quiet," Clare answered in a reproving tone. "Lucille is a
very good nurse; better than I am."

"Well," said Dick in a thoughtful tone, "perhaps she is, in a way. She
never upsets the medicine on my pillow, as you did the last time. The
nasty stuff got into my hair----"

Clare raised her hand in remonstrance. "You really mustn't talk."

"I'm going to talk," Dick answered defiantly. "It's bad for me to keep
puzzling over things, and I mean to get them straight. Lucille's very
patient, but she isn't soothing as you are. It rests one's eyes to look
at you, but that's not altogether why I like you about. I expect it's
because you knew I hadn't stolen those plans when everybody else thought
I had. But then why did I tear your letter up?"

Clare made an abrupt movement. She knew he must be kept quiet and his
brain was not working normally, but his statement was disturbing.

"You tore it up?" she asked, with some color in her face.

"Yes," said Dick in a puzzled voice, "I tore it all to bits. There was a
reason, though I can't remember it