The color mounted swiftly across her face, then faded, and even to her own ears her laugh failed to ring true.
"I am sorry; but I fear it is impossible. Here comes Colonel Andersen for his dance."
Weldon faced about.
"Colonel Andersen, Miss Dent is longing for an ice," he said, with a sudden masterful quietness. "May I take a convalescent's privilege and ask you to bring it to her?" Then he turned back to Ethel. "Come," he bade her.
"Where?" she protested; but she yielded to his stronger will and followed him across the floor towards a deserted corner of the room.
"Anywhere, where we can talk for a moment," he answered her, with the same dominant quietness. Then, while they halted beside an open window, he bent forward and laid his hand upon hers, as it rested upon the sill. "Ethel," he added; "I am going home, next week. I may never see South Africa again. Before I go—"
Quietly she withdrew her hand. "Before you go, you will come to say good by to my mother, I hope," she said, with a steadiness which gave no hint of the tears behind her lowered lids.
Impatiently he brushed her words aside.
"That is for you to say. First of all, I must know one thing."
Her nerve was failing fast; but she still held to her resolve that he should gain no hint of her weakness. She drew back a step, as if his vehemence terrified her, yet she dared not raise her eyes to his. It was all she could do to hold her voice in subjection.