“Thank you,” he said.

Those two words, spoken almost under his breath, had a curious effect upon her.  She felt as if something had suddenly entered and pierced her heart.  Before she knew it, a sharp sob escaped her, and then all in a moment she broke down.

“Oh, Nap, Nap,” she sobbed, “I wish I had died before this could happen!”

She felt his hand tighten as she crouched there beside him in her anguish, and presently she knew that he had somehow managed to raise himself to a sitting posture.

Through her agony his voice came to her.  It was pitched very low, yet she heard it.

“Don’t cry—­for pity’s sake!  I shall get over it.  I shall live—­to get back—­my own.”

Torn by emotion as she was, something in the last words, spoken in that curious undertone, struck her with a subtle force.  With a desperate effort she controlled herself.  She knew that he was still watching her with that strange intensity that she could not bring herself to meet.  His right hand still held hers with quivering tenacity; the other trailed uselessly on the snow.

“Let me help you,” she urged again.

He was silent; she feared he was going to refuse.  And then she saw that his head had begun to droop forward, and realised that he was on the verge of another collapse.  Instinctively she slipped her arm about his shoulders, supporting him.  He was shuddering all over.  She drew his head to rest against her.

A long time passed thus, she kneeling motionless, holding him, while he panted against her breast, struggling with dogged persistence to master the weakness that threatened to overpower him.  It was terrible to see him so, he the arrogant, the fierce, the overbearing, thus humbled to the earth before her.  She felt the agony of his crushed pride, and yearned with an intensity that was passionate to alleviate it.  But there seemed nothing for her to do.  She could only kneel and look on in bitter impotence while he fought his battle.

In the end he lifted his face.  “It’s the collarbone that hurts so infernally.  Could you push something under my left arm to hold it up?  Your muff would do.  Mind my wrist—­that’s broken too.  Ah!” She heard the breath whistle sharply between his lips as with the utmost care she complied with these instructions, but almost instantly he went on:  “Don’t be afraid of touching me—­unless I’m too monstrous to touch.  But I don’t believe I can walk.”

“I will help you,” she said.  “I am very strong.”

“You are—­wonderful,” he said.

And the words comforted her subtly though she did not know exactly what he meant by them.

Thereafter they scarcely spoke at all.  By slow degrees he recovered his self-command, though she knew with only too keen a perception how intolerable was the pain that racked his whole body.  With her assistance and with strenuous effort he managed at last to get upon his feet, but he was immediately assailed afresh by deadly faintness, and for minutes he could stand only by means of her arms upholding him.