"You were angry. You said unkind things to me. But that's over. Don't torment yourself."
He was silent. He seemed dozing. Then he roused again.
"It's a hellish ... shame!..." he murmured, in that spent voice. The violent words contrasted painfully with the weak tones.
"What is?" she said, humouring him.
"Your having ... a chap like me ... for a husband."
"You're ill, Cecil. Don't worry. Try to sleep again. But wait a minute—your mother is here. Would you like to see her?"
"Damnation—no!" he said. Then he seemed to think better of it. "Well—since the old lady's lowered her crest enough to come—send her up," he muttered. "Don't let her talk, though—will you?"
"I'll tell her that you can't bear any talking."
She moved towards the door.
"Sophy...."