CHAPTER VII
A MATRIMONIAL TALE
Before Geoffrey Bingham dropped off into a troubled sleep on that
eventful night of storm, he learned that the girl who had saved his life
at the risk and almost at the cost of her own was out of danger, and in
his own and more reticent way he thanked Providence as heartily as did
Owen Davies. Then he went to sleep.
When he woke, feeling very sick and so stiff and sore that he could
scarcely move, the broad daylight was streaming through the blinds. The
place was perfectly quiet, for the doctor's assistant who had brought
him back to life, and who lay upon a couch at the further end of
the room, slept the sleep of youth and complete exhaustion. Only an
eight-day clock on the mantelpiece ticked in that solemn and aggressive
way which clocks affect in the stillness. Geoffrey strained his eyes to
make out the time, and finally discovered that it wanted a few minutes
to six o'clock. Then he fell to wondering how Miss Granger was, and to
repeating in his own mind every scene of their adventure, till the
last, when they were whirled out of the canoe in the embrace of that
white-crested billow.
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