Iris heard him rustling upwards through the trees.

She set some water to boil for tea, and, whilst bringing a fresh supply of fuel, passed the spot where the torn scraps of paper littered the sand.
She was the soul of honor, for a woman, but there was never a woman yet who could take her eyes off a written document which confronted her.
She could not help seeing that one small morsel contained her own name.
Though mutilated it had clearly read--Miss Deane." "So it _was_ intended for me!" she cried, throwing down her bundle and dropping to her knees.

She secured that particular slip and examined it earnestly.

Not for worlds would she pick up all the scraps and endeavor to sort them.

Yet they had a fascination for her, and at this closer range she saw another which bore the legend--"I love you!" Somehow the two seemed to fit together very nicely.
Yet a third carried the same words--"I love you!" They were still quite coherent.