throw itself on the situation. "If you had something black about
you. But you haven't. You're all gold--pink and white and gold. If
Bram has another fit of talking he may tell me you came from the
moon--that a chasse-galere crew brought you down out of space to
keep house for him. Great Scott, can't you give me some sort of an
idea of who you are and where you same from?"

He paused for an answer--and she smiled at him. There was
something pathetically sweet in that smile. It brought a queer
lump into his throat, and for a space he forgot Bram.

"You don't understand a cussed word of it, do you?" he said,
taking her hand in both his own and holding it closely for a
moment. "Not a word. But we're getting the drift of things--
slowly. I know you've been here quite a while, and that morning,
noon and night since the chasse-galere brought you down from the
moon you've had nothing to put your little teeth into but meat.
Probably without salt, too. I saw how you wanted to throw yourself
down on that pile of stuff on the floor. Let's have breakfast!"

He led her into the outer room, and eagerly she set to work
helping him gather the things from the floor. He felt that an
overwhelming load had been lifted from his heart, and he continued
to tell her about it while he hurried the preparation of the
breakfast for which he knew she was hungering. He did not look at
her too closely. All at once it had dawned upon him that her
situation must be tremendously more embarrassing than his own. He
felt, too, the tingle of a new excitement in his veins. It was a
pleasurable sensation, something which he did not pause to analyze
just at present. Only he knew that it was because she had told him