'You are hard,' I said.
'Scold away,' grinned Ross.
'No, but you are; you've simply looked through Brown and locked your door, and been cold to me for days.'
'Can't stand disobedience in a soldier,' said Ross, shortly, 'never could.'
'Nor in a sister, Ross?'
But there was no reply.
'Ross,' I exclaimed suddenly, desiring an armistice, 'I'm sorry. I won't come in again, only, if you knew how I worry about you, you'd let me. But,' I added, 'I thought when we embarked on this conversation, that I was rowing you.'
'I haven't said a word,' protested Ross.
'No, I know you haven't, but conscience makes the head uneasy when it wears a crown.'
'Are you feverish, darling?' said Ross anxiously.