A
deeper tragedy than this seemed to be stamped in his wan face.
"You fainted ten minutes ago. Are you feeling better now? Give him
some brandy, one of you. We will put you on your feet again in a few
minutes, and then you may get on to the hotel. How wet you are! You
must have come far."
He watched her face all the time she was speaking. No sign of trust or
confidence came into his own as the result of her kindliness. Instead,
the wariness grew.
"Only across the mountain," he said succinctly. A half smile,
quizzical and almost grotesque by reason of the mud on his chin, came
to his lips. "I've been out in the rain, ma'am," he vouchsafed. "I
should say you had," said the contortionist. "You're soppin' wet. By
gum, I'll bet the green runs in these tights of mine, too." The wet
body had drenched them thoroughly.
Whereupon the newcomer undertook to support himself, not without a
word of thanks to the acrobat. Once more he surveyed the mystic circle
of figures. He had never been so close to men and women in tights
before. Somehow they were not so alluring as when viewed from the blue
seats of the circus tent.
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