A quicker figure slipped before the square, slow-moving woman; it was Mary Burne, running down the stairs, dressed to go out.
"I am sorry to have kept you," she said. If she noticed Gano's changed manner, she put it down to anxiety for his friend. "Come, I've brought an umbrella," she said, almost sharply, as Gano stood an instant looking out for a fiacre; "it's nearly as quick to walk, and I—I—"
He took the umbrella from her silently, and they hurried on side by side in the rain. Gano, with growing agitation, searched for some way of letting her know that he was in possession of the situation, and meant to remain in possession.
As they turned into the Rue de Provence she stopped, breathless.
"Are you quite sure he wants to see me only for a minute?"
"So he says."
"He understands that just at present I can't sit up with him any more?"
"He doesn't expect you to stay to-night, at any rate," Gano answered, in a determined voice. He began to walk on.
"Mr. Gano." She laid an arresting hand on his arm. He looked down coldly at the white face. "You've shown too plainly in these last weeks to what lengths your friendship for Dick can go. I don't pretend to apologize for asking if you can spare the time to take him away for a few weeks as soon as he gets a little better."
The man hesitated. She misunderstood.