Doris, dressed all in white, was leaning against the rail. She drank in the fresh morning air eagerly. The wind had brought a faint tinge of colour to her cheeks, and the blue ribbon which she had bound about her hair to protect it from the ravages of the wind lent her an air almost of gaiety, which the count was not slow to observe.
"It is a glorious day," he said cheerfully. "And your father is better. I can read the good news in your face."
He ranged himself beside her, his back against the rail, so that his eyes took in every aspect of her face and figure.
"He is asleep," she returned in a low voice, "and so I ventured out for a breath of fresh air. He was—delirious—through the night."
He looked at her reproachfully. "And you watched with him all night?"
She nodded.
"You might, at least, have permitted me to divide the time with you."
The girl was silent.
"Is he alone—now?" he asked abruptly.
A certain quality in his tones made her glance up swiftly.