As he turned up the collar of her coat, Gregory's fingers brushed her cheek. She turned her head and kissed them swiftly.
"Well, rub it out and do it over again, because you know you're going to win."
Gregory met the nurse in the hall. She carried Lady Jane in her arms and smiled reassuringly.
"She is ever so much better. She had a fine sleep and woke with no fever at all. She asked for you."
Puck was propped up with pillows, her eyes fastened on the door waiting for Lady Jane. At the sight of Gregory she wriggled with delight.
"Well, Pucklets, all better?"
He sat down on the side of the bed and put an arm about her. Lady Jane was forgotten. Puck reached up and stroked his cheek. It was an old gesture of Margaret's, and brought back sharply the days of his brief engagement when, sitting on the arm of Margaret's chair before the library fire, with the slender grace of her pressed near, he had wanted sometimes to crush her to him. But always she had seemed to sense the ferocity of his mood and to stave it off by this gentle stroking of his cheek, as she might have quieted her pet Angora. Gregory drew a little beyond the reach of Puck's touch, and she nestled to him.
"Quite all well, Puckie, sure?"
Puck nodded. "I got all better when I went to sleep. I can get up to-morrow, can't I, Miss Burns?"