Not necessary to go to Petroff Sound now. No, of course not. Betty had
decided that gold-mining was more fun. And why go on to Petroff Sound
when they had already come to an understanding.
George did not display quite the elation he should have done under the
circumstances, I thought; but he was so blasé that even the winning of
Betty wouldn’t keep him animated for long.
Betty finally came and sat with us. She talked to Pierce, to Simmons,
and to me; and at me she looked with puzzlement in her quiet gray eyes
and bit her under lip and looked away.
“Do you feel so completely a stranger to me?” she whispered, drawing
her chair near to mine.
“Like a stranger?” I said. “Why do you ask that?”
“Because you look at me as if—as if we were just speaking
acquaintances.”
“I didn’t know,” I apologized. “I’ll do better. You,” I continued,
looking at her, “don’t look as happy as I expected you would.”
“One doesn’t,” she whispered, rising to go, “when one’s in a hidden
country and nobody will help one out.”
“Help you out?” I whispered, but she was gone.
I wearied my brains in vain puzzling over her meaning; but that
evening Dr. Olson whistled and wondered whence had come the new
strength which animated my pulse, my eyes, my whole being.
“And that makes two of you,” said he, “because Wilson’s sitting up
shaving himself and says he’ll take the yacht out to sea tomorrow.”