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She fairly sang it. "Dunham. Pig-iron Dunham. I knew if I waited I'd cop. Now watch me. Watch my dust!" Cecille wondered why she didn't pack her bag and get out. But she didn't. She stayed. And later, a little timidly, she inquired about Blair. "Perry Blair?" Felicity with a racing tongue had been describing how Dunham led her away from the near-accident. "Perry? Oh, he's a prize-fighter.
She read aloud poor Peter's first halting lines, when he was struggling against sleep and cold. They were mainly an apology for the delay. Then forgetting discomfort in the joy of creation, he became more comfortable. The account of the near-accident was wonderfully graphic; the description of the chamois was fervid, if not accurate. But consternation came with the end.
Helen began to sob again. She was working herself up into a highly nervous state and her imagination was "running away with her," as Ruth often said. Just then she almost lost the punt-pole, and this near-accident startled her. She might need that pole yet especially if the boat drifted into shallow water. She looked all around. She stood up, so as to see farther.
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