Something in his tone still made her anxious, but his face was so placid that she took comfort from it. She waited a moment, then said:
"Do you mean, dear, that you will let us make a ... a régime for you, on the lines that ... that were suggested?"
"Why—what else?" said Chesney, with a sort of indulgent loftiness. "My admission could hardly have been worth while otherwise—could it?"
"No—that's true," she said joyfully. "Oh, Cecil!" She sat looking at him through tears of gratitude. She could not keep these tears from starting, but she managed to hold them within her eyelids.
"There, there!" he said nervously. "You're a dear thing—but don't make a fuss."
"Oh, no— I won't indeed. I feel so quiet—so happy."
She paused, gathering composure.
"And ... in case the ... the constant care will be more than Gaynor and I can do properly ... you'll let me engage a nurse—won't you!"
That dark wave rose again. Again he surmounted it, thinking in those lightning bright and quick flashes. If he objected it would look odd. Besides he had not accomplished all that he desired. He wished it firmly fixed that Carfew should not be put in charge. By concessions on his part he could demand concessions on hers.
"See here, Sophy," he said, in a reasonable, practical voice. "I am willing, as I said, to put myself in your and Gaynor's hands. Having agreed to this, I think I have a right to make certain conditions, have I not?"