"Oh, not in the least, I assure you," he said. "I am staying at Brethaven for a couple of days with my wife's people. It's only ten miles away, you know. And I bicycled over here on the chance of seeing you."
"But how did you know I was here?" she asked.
"From your husband. I told him I was coming in this direction, and he suggested that I should come over and look you up." Very casually he made reply, and he could not have been aware of the flood of colour his words sent to her face, for he continued in the same cool fashion as he strolled by her side. "I was afraid you might consider it an unpardonable liberty, but he assured me you wouldn't. So—" the green eyes smiled upon her imperturbably—"as I am naturally interested in your welfare, I took my courage in both hands and, at the risk of being considered unprofessional,—I came."
It was unexpected, but it was disarming. Avery found herself smiling in answer.
"I am very pleased to see you," she said. "But your coming just at this time is rather amazing all the same, for I was thinking of you, wishing I could see you, only a few minutes ago."
"What can I do for you?" said Maxwell Wyndham.
She hesitated a little before the direct question; then as simply as he had asked she answered, laying the matter before him without reservation.
He listened in his shrewd, comprehending way, asking one or two questions, but making no comments.
"There need be no difficulty about it," he said, when she ended. "You say the child is tractable. Keep her in bed to-morrow, and say a medical friend of yours is coming over to see if he can do anything for her cough! Then if you'll ask me to lunch—I'll do the rest."
He smiled as he ended, and thrust out his hand.