"No," he said, "it's not altogether that. We had a rather bad time before the relief party arrived, but I felt up to my work--anxious, of course, but not troubled by the slackness that has since got hold of me. All this, however, isn't of much consequence. I'm very grateful to you and your father for sending help--we were in a very tight place when it came. But I don't understand how you knew we needed it." Geraldine looked down, to hide her confusion. "I wonder why you associate me with my father?" "I can't tell you clearly, but I feel that you had something to do with the matter. Indeed, it made the relief more welcome. But you haven't given me an explanation." "Do you understand why you failed to find the food?" "Yes," said Andrew grimly. "I've a suspicion that you know as much about it as I do, though it's hard to see how you came by the knowledge." Geraldine looked up with a forced smile. He must not guess how she had led Mappin to betray himself. "It is rather astonishing, isn't it? The search gave you trouble, and you have some respect for your thinking powers." "I've more respect for Carnally's; he found the clue. But he was on the spot." "And I was handicapped by being at home? Do you know I sometimes think I'm not altogether stupid?" "You're exceptionally clever," said Andrew warmly. "You have a gift for seizing on the truth and sticking to it. I think it's because the truth is in you that you recognize it. That's different from smartness." She checked him with a gesture of mocking rebuke. "You should have learned that I don't expect you to pay me labored compliments." "It wasn't labored; I believe it was a flash of insight," Andrew declared. He glanced at her face and laughed, looking baffled. There was silence for the next few moments. Geraldine knew what the man thought of her, but she approved of the respectful diffidence he generally displayed. Now that he was safe, she preferred that they remain on a purely friendly footing for a time; he was hers, but she shrank with a fluttering timidity from an open surrender. It was not difficult to repulse him gently when he grew too bold. Nevertheless his wan and downcast appearance roused a deep and tender pity. She longed to hear his troubles and comfort him. "You suddenly changed the subject we began," she said. "Were you not going to tell me why you feel depressed?" "Something of the kind," replied Andrew. "It didn't seem a very happy topic." "That was a mistake," declared Geraldine reproachfully. "You shouldn't have doubted my interest, and it lightens one's troubles to confide in a friend." Andrew, in his dejected mood, felt a longing for sympathy and encouragement.