"It's a nasty cut," he said, "but I'll give the Squire a certificate for bandaging. I'll look up at the Manor to-morrow and see how you are."
He met Justin as he was going out at the gate.
"Take good care of your wife, Squire; she's very weak from loss of blood. Keep her in bed till I see her again. I expect she has taken a chill; she has a temperature. Have you got a closed car?"
"Yes."
"She'll be better off at home, so I suppose she must be moved. Otherwise, she'd be wise to stay where she is. I've told her I'll look in to-morrow."
Justin went in. Anstice struggled to her feet when she saw him.
"I am ready. In my own clothes again! Mrs. James has been wonderful."
But she staggered as she spoke, and Justin put his arm round her, and when they got outside, he lifted her right up in his arms and deposited her in the car, as he might have done a child.
"Well," she murmured, "I never realized you were so strong."
He smiled. Nothing could have been more protective and tender than his care of her during that drive home. They spoke but little. Once Anstice tried to explain her long absence, but he stopped her.