Nevertheless, he said with admirable self-abnegation:
“Tell your mistress not to get up on any account, if she feels better in bed. But I suppose I shall be able to see her before I go out?”
“My lady desired particularly that she might not be disturbed, sir. She said she thought she should be well enough to take a drive in the afternoon if she kept quiet for the next few hours.”
“Oh, very well!” answered Colonel Dacre. And he might have been unreasonable; but somehow he felt snubbed. “What has her ladyship taken, Phœbe?”
“A strong cup of tea, sir; that was all she would have.”
And the girl, who was already attached to her young mistress, looked quite distressed. Colonel Dacre was obliged to assume a tranquillity he did not feel to reassure her.
“Rest is sure to do her more good than anything, Phœbe. Be sure and tell her ladyship when she rings for you that I was obliged to go out this morning; but shall hope to see her at luncheon time.”
Phœbe bowed, and left the room. Then Colonel Dacre swallowed a cup of coffee, ate part of a roll, and then, telling the waiter to get him a cab, prepared for his visit to Mrs. O’Hara.
He found his old friend reclining on a sofa in an exquisite peignoir of pale blue cashmere, trimmed with lace, while a coquettish little cap rested on the top of her brown hair. She held out to him her jeweled hand languidly.
“I am so glad to see you, Lawrence. How is your wife?”