Cyril's eyes fell before her agonised gaze.
"I'll try to be worthy of you," he stammered.
"Worthy of me?" she cried with a gay, little laugh. "I'm too silly and stupid now to be anything but a burden—I quite realise that—but the doctor thinks I will get better and in the meantime I will try to please you and do my duty."
Poor baby, thought Cyril, the marriage vows she imagined she had taken seemed to weigh dreadfully on her conscience. Oh, if he could only undeceive her!
A discreet knock sounded at the door.
The nurse made her appearance.
"The doctor thinks Mrs. Thompkins has talked enough for the present," she said.
Cyril rose with a curious mixture of relief and reluctance.
"Well, this must be good-bye for to-day," he said, taking her small hand in his.
She lifted up her face—simply as a child might have done. Slowly he leaned nearer to her, his heart was pounding furiously; the blood rushed to his temples.