"Well, Violet," he said, with his slow, calm smile.
"Where have you been?" she demanded, moving her hand toward a chair, "I thought you were dead!"
"I am alive," he answered, "and I have been wandering up and down like the gentleman mentioned in history. You are early with your fire, aren't you? It is quite warm out."
"It is quite cold within," she replied; "at least, I am cold, I always feel cold now. Well?" she added, with abrupt interrogation.
He smiled up at her.
"You want my news?" he said, shortly.
"Yes! Where is he? Where is Blair?" she demanded, and as she spoke his name a red spot burnt in either cheek, and her eyes grew hungry and impatient. "Why does he not come home or write? One would think you were both dead!"
"Blair is alive," he said, holding his hands to the fire, though he had said it was warm, and watching her with a sidelong look under the lowered lids. "He isn't dead, but he has been very nearly."
She uttered a faint cry, and put her hand to her heart.