A little pulse, its existence hitherto unsuspected, began doing queer things in Kathleen's throat.
"Phil wants to go down to the rocks," she said.
"Well, why doesn't he? He was mooning all over the island alone last night."
"He thinks I am going with him. I came in for my coat. Shall I tell him you need me?"
"Oh, no. Go with him. And don't speak to me when you come in. I shall be asleep. I'm feeling better."
Kathleen came over to the bed and kissed her mother, and Mrs. Fabian patted her hand. "Tell Phil I wish I could go, too," she said with nasal sleepiness.
Kathleen smiled, and going to her own room took a white polo coat and hurried downstairs.
Phil met her with relief, and she gave him a couple of cushions.
"I began to think," he said, "that she did want you."