He felt very exhausted now it was all over. It had been a ghastly five minutes when he dived again and again into that still green water. He felt that he would never care for the sea in the same way any more.

Supposing she had been drowned! Although he knew that she was safe and well, and to-morrow would probably be none the worse for her accident. Feathers involuntarily echoed the words of the woman in the crowd who had wept.

"Poor child! poor child!"

He laughed at himself directly afterwards, as he got into a dry suit, tried to reduce some sort of order to his unruly hair, and went downstairs.

He was a simple sort of fellow, and thought so little of his own action that it gave him a positive shock when the visitors in the lounge insisted on giving him a cheer as he went through. The news of what had occurred had spread like wildfire and, red faced and frowning angrily. Feathers had to submit to being made a hero.

Mrs. Heriot, who had hitherto deliberately avoided him, insisted on shaking hands, and gushed that she was 80 proud of him, so delighted to know such a brave man.

Feathers turned on her almost fiercely.

"It's all rubbish," he declared. "I happened to be the nearest, that was all! For heaven's sake, Mrs. Heriot, say no more!"

He went without his lunch because he could not bear the battery of eyes which he knew would be upon him all the time. He sat up in his own room reading until Atkins, still pale and shaken, came knocking at the door.

Feathers said, "Come in," not very pleasantly, and the boy went across to him and held out an unsteady hand.

"I say, you're a ripping sport!" he said in heartfelt tones. "If she'd gone I should have jumped in and drowned myself; I swear I should."

"And a lot of good that would have done," Feathers said dryly. "For heaven's sake, it, young 'un, and talk about something we can all enjoy."

But Atkins apparently could talk of nothing else, and he kept harping on the same subject until in desperation Feathers took him by the shoulders and put him outside.

Even then there was no peace, for almost directly Chris himself arrived.

"They tell me you saved her life," he said agitatedly. "I ought to have guessed! It's the kind of thing you would do. I can't--can't tell you how grateful I am. If anything had happened to her ..."

Feathers chucked the book he was reading across the room with violence.

"Well, nothing has happened to her," he said crossly. "So, for the love of Mike, shut up!" He walked over to the window. "I suppose she is all right?" he asked casually.

"She's weak, of course, but the doctor says she'll be quite herself in a day or two." Chris hesitated. "She'd like to see you, Feathers."

Feathers ran a distracted hand across his hair.

"More heroics!" he said savagely. "Well, I refuse! I absolutely refuse! I hate this tommyrot, I tell you!"

Chris looked offended. "I think she'll be hurt if you don't go." he said diffidently.

There was a little silence.

"Oh, all right!" Feathers turned resignedly to the door. "Do I go now, and do you come with me?"

"Yes."

They went out of the room together and along the corridor.

Marie was lying on a sofa by the window, wrapped in a blue woolly gown. Her dark hair was spread over the pillow behind her, and she looked very frail and wan.

She held out her hand to Feathers, smiling faintly.

"I know you'll hate it," she said weakly, "but--I want to thank you. They tell me "--her brown eyes went past him to where her husband stood--"Chris tells me that you saved my life."

Feathers managed a laugh.

"Chris exaggerates," he said uncomfortably. "I happened to be lucky enough to pull you out--that was all. I hope you'll soon feel yourself again."

"Thank you, yes." He was still holding her hand, and, suddenly realizing it, he let it go abruptly.

Chris had gone to the door with the doctor, and for a moment Marie and Feathers were alone.

"Mr. Dakers," she said hesitatingly.

"Yes."

Her brown eyes were raised to his ugly face appealingly.

"I was horrid to you this morning, I know! It was--hateful of me!

But there was a reason ... some day I'll tell you."

He fidgeted uncomfortably. "Oh, don't worry, Mrs. Lawless; it's all right."

"Yes, but it isn't," she insisted weakly. "And I want to say that-- that if you would still like me to look upon you as--as a sort of big brother" ... she smiled tremulously.

Feathers frowned so heavily that his eyes almost vanished beneath their s.h.a.ggy brows.

"All this because I pulled you out of two feet of water?" he growled.

Tears swam into her eyes.

"It was a good deal more than two feet of water, and you know it was! And--and--it isn't anything to do with that at all! It's just you--you yourself! I should like to have you for a friend."

There was a little silence, then Feathers held out his hand.

CHAPTER V

"For all the world to my fond heart means you, And there is nothing left when you are gone."

MARIE'S narrow escape from death did her one good turn--it sealed her friendship with Feathers, and in the days that followed she owed almost everything to him.

Chris did his best. He really thought he was playing the part of a model husband; he loaded her with sweets which she could not eat and presents which she did not want. He was in and out of her room ceaselessly--a little too ceaselessly, thought the doctor, who soon discovered that her husband's presence did not have a very soothing effect upon his patient.