work. 'It is very lonely here. There is not even a dog.'
'What can I do?' she answered him. 'You must have food, so must I. It does not grow on these rocks.'
'I know, I know! And I am so useless!'
She was silent as she fanned the charcoal with her breath. She was wondering whether she had better tell him of the new danger to him that might arise if Maurice Sanctis should come thither.
But silence was so habitual with her that she doubted the wisdom of any departure from it. Of what use to torment him with a new dread? She trusted to her own powers of repelling her undesired friend in so resolute a manner that Sanctis would abandon his attempts to force his companionship and assistance on her. She knew that he would not come there all that day; amidst her suspicion of him as so unlike anything she had ever known, her instinct made her unconsciously do justice to the loyalty of his nature.
'What is a place they call Paris?' she said suddenly to Este, as she watched his fish roast in the heat from the charcoal.
