"Yes—if you won't stay long," was her reply in a listless tone.
He entered, looked surprised when he saw her propped up in bed with her supper tray in her lap. "Are you ill?"
"No."
"You didn't come down to supper."
"No."
"I don't think I ever knew you to do this before."
"No."
"Your voice sounds—strange—tired."
"I am."
"You don't exercise enough, I guess. And there's little for you to do about the house—with Lizzie looking after the flowers and Nanny such a good housekeeper and Mazie such a splendid cook. We're getting the benefit of my aunt's toil. She built up such a splendid system that it runs itself—and there's really not enough for you to do. You ought to——"