"O no—indeed—"
"Then what is wrong? Out with it!"
"I'm only silly. If you wouldn't ask any more—please—" Lettice was debating with herself—should she tell him all? True, Cecilia had not meant her to know: and she had learnt the truth by accident. But now that she did know it, might she not speak freely to her brother? That was one side of the question. On the other side—why should he know so soon? Might he not keep his happy ignorance just a little longer?
"When you have told me what is the matter, I'll stop. So out with it!"
Lettice breathed quickly. Twice she opened her lips, and shut them again.
Felix bent to look into her face, and she murmured: "I thought—I thought—if Sissie—"
"Well! If Sissie—"
"Were to die—"
Two great tears splashed upon his wrist, and Felix, after one quick movement, said not a word. He had had for the moment a quietus. It was Lettice, not he, who spoke next: and she had suddenly regained her usual voice.
"I didn't mean to say it, only you made me."