She hesitated for a moment.
“I have known him for some time.”
Something in her tone seemed to disturb him. He leaned towards her quickly. His face had lost its good-humoured indifference. He was evidently very much in earnest.
“Please don’t think me impertinent,” he begged, “but—is he a very great friend?”
She did not answer. She was looking over his shoulder towards where Major Thomson, who had just returned, was answering a little stream of questions.
“The man is in a shockingly weak state,” he announced. “He is a Belgian, has been wounded and evidently subjected to great privations. His heart is very much weakened. He had a bad fainting fit, but with a long rest he may recover.”
The little party broke up once more into groups. Granet, who had drawn for a moment apart and seemed to be adjusting the knots of his sling, turned to Thomson.
“Has he recovered consciousness yet?” he asked.
“Barely,” was the terse reply.
“There was no special cause for his going off like that, I suppose?”