Mostly, it was my fault."
She waved away all need of apology.
"Don't think an instant about that, Mr. Gregg. Joan needs a great deal of
disciplining." She laughed a little. "She has so much of her father in her,
you see. Now, are you strong enough to lift yourself higher in the
pillows?"
They managed it between them, for he was weaker than he thought and when he
was padded into position with cushions she laid the tray across his knees.
His head swam at sight of it. Forty-eight hours of fasting had sharpened
his appetite, and the loaded tray whetted a razor edge, for a great bowl of
broth steamed forth an exquisite fragrance on one side and beside it she
lifted a napkin to let him peek at a slice of venison steak. Then there was
butter, yellow as the gold for which he had been digging all winter, and
real cream for his coffee--a whole pitcher of it--and snowy bread. Best of
all, she did not stay to embarrass him with her watching while he ate,
since above all things in the world a hungry man hates observation when the
board is spread.
Afterwards, consuming sleep rippled over him from his feet to his eyes to
his brain.
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