"It is most unwise for you just now," said Ferrati, adjusting his pince-nez to hide his dismay and embarrassment. "You are anæmic, you are not strong enough—it is most unwise."
"Yes," agreed Fru Bjork, "I have told her so, but she won't listen to me. She really is not at all well. I wish you would advise her, Doctor, indeed I do. The child worries me, what with her pale looks, and no appetite, and headaches and fainting fits."
Ragna anxiously met the Doctor's scrutinizing gaze.
"I wish you would prescribe for me; Fru Bjork is right. I am really not myself," she said simply.
Ferrati skilfully changed the subject and they chatted on gaily enough, until the Lido was reached. The little tram took them across the island, and while the others went to the dressing-rooms to change for the bath, the Doctor and Ragna walked out on to the terrace fronting the sea. They found two chairs, a little apart from the groups of smiling, chattering people, and when they had seated themselves, Ragna opened the conversation.
"Tell me the truth, Doctor, why should I not bathe?"
Ferrati met her question with a searching glance; was she in good faith, or feigning?
"Do you not know, then, Signorina, what is the matter with you?"
"You say I am anæmic, I have headaches, and dizzy spells—" a horrible doubt suddenly thrust itself upwards in her mind. "For God's sake, Doctor, tell me what it is?"
"Surely you must have an idea—" He hesitated, then in answer to the appeal for frankness in her eyes, he continued in a lower tone. "Signorina, you are enceinte. Is it possible that you have not guessed it?"