After hastily gulping down the contents of several leaves he returned with a further supply.

Iris was now sitting up.

The sun had burst royally through the clouds, and her chilled limbs were gaining some degree of warmth and elasticity.
"What is it ?" she repeated after another delicious draught.
"The leaf of the pitcher-plant.

Nature is not always cruel.

In an unusually generous mood she devised this method of storing water." Miss Deane reached out her hand for more.