“No, no,” he said softly. “It is all right. You may depend on me.”
She looked at him earnestly. He had taken her hand to steady her, for she was swaying a little. “Are you sure,” she said, grasping his arm. “Are you quite sure?”
“Absolutely certain. You know I am always right, do you not?”
“Yes, oh, yes; you have always been true to me. You—” Here her senses came back with a rush. Dropping his hand as if it had become red hot, she said sharply, “What are you talking about?”
“I don’t know,” he said, resuming his indifferent manner with a laugh. “Are you better? Let me drive you to the Beeches. My stable is within a stone’s throw; I can get a trap out in ten minutes.”
“No, thank you,” said Gertrude haughtily. “I do not wish to drive.” She paused, and added in some bewilderment, “What has happened?”
“You fainted, and—”
“I did not faint,” said Gertrude indignantly. “I never fainted in my life.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Pardon me, Mr. Trefusis. I did not.”