The bet had been made, and it seemed unsportsmanlike to leave without some effort.
The effort which he finally made was that suggested by Wilbur.

He folded his arms and stood silent, waiting, and ready to judge the time as nearly as he could until the five minutes should have elapsed.

He was so busy computing the minutes that it was with a start that he noticed some time later that the weeping had ceased.

She lay quiet.
Her hand was dabbing furtively at her face for a purpose which Pierre could not surmise.
At last a broken voice murmured: "Pierre!" He would not speak, but something in the voice made his anger go.
After a little it came, and louder this time: "Pierre ?" He did not stir.
She whirled and sat on the edge of the bunk, crying: "Pierre!" with a note of fright.
Still he persisted in that silence, his arms folded, the keen blue eyes considering her as if from a great distance.
She explained: "I was afraid--Pierre! Why don't you speak?
Tell me, are you angry ?" And she sprang up and made a pace toward him.

She had never seemed so little manlike, so wholly womanly.