Sophy came at once. She looked pale but quiet in her dark brown travelling gown and hat.
"You sent for me, but I was coming anyway to say good-by, Cecil," she said, in her low voice.
He looked at her very strangely, she thought. She never remembered having seen quite this expression on his face.
"It was not exactly to say good-by that I sent for you," he said after a pause. His voice, too, was low. There was some restrained emotion in it, whether anger or regret she could not tell. He continued:
"I sent for you in fact—to—to thank you, among other things."
"To thank me?"
She flushed cruelly. She thought he wished to bait her with his bitter mockery for this last time. He saw her slight figure brace itself, and her hands close nervously. He flushed himself.
"You needn't fear any brutishness on my part, not just now," he said, still in that low voice. "I'm not sneering. I want to thank you for holding out against the others this morning. Nurse Harding told me of it."
"Ah," said Sophy. She drew a deep breath. "I told them it would be no use," she added sadly.
"You were right. Thank you again."