It hurt Amaldi to look at Chesney as it hurts some people to look on blood—gave him just that faint, gone feeling. The very fact that he was so magnificent a man to look at hurt him that much more.
Chesney accepted this proposal about The Wind-Flower with frank alacrity.
"What d'you say to an all-day sail to-morrow?" he asked. "You're as keen on sailing as I am, my wife tells me. If it's convenient...." he added; then said quickly, laughing: "I must say, I've landed rather plump on your offer, Marquis."
Amaldi murmured banal assurances of the pleasure that it would afford him to sail all day with Mr. Chesney.
"Good!" Cecil exclaimed, much pleased. "And I say, suppose we drop the 'Mister' and the 'Marquis'—such rot, really—thanks. Well, Sophy—what d'you think? Will you come along, too—eh?"
"No.... I don't think I can to-morrow, Cecil."
"Why not?"
"I ... I don't think I care to sail all day. The glare gives me a headache if I'm out too long in it."
"Just as you like, of course. But I rather fancy 'twould do you good. A bit of sunburn wouldn't hurt—you're looking a bit pale, I find. What do you think, Amaldi? Don't you find Mrs. Chesney paler than she was in England?"
"I don't think so," said Amaldi. His throat seemed to close.