"Yes," said Tudor briefly.
She glanced at him, caught by something in his tone. "Dr. Tudor," she said, after a moment's hesitation, "are you—altogether—satisfied about her?"
Tudor was looking at his horse's ears; for some reason he was holding the animal in to a walk. "I am quite satisfied with regard to the fracture," he said. "She will soon be on her legs again."
His words were deliberately wary. Avery felt a little tremor of apprehension go through her.
"I'm afraid you don't consider her very strong," she said uneasily.
He did not at once reply. She had a feeling that he was debating within himself as to the advisability of replying at all. And then quite suddenly he turned his head and spoke. "Mrs. Denys, you are accustomed to hearing other people's burdens, so I may as well tell you the truth. I can't say—because I don't know—if there is anything radically wrong with that little girl; but she has no stamina whatever. If she had to contend with anything serious, things would go very badly with her. In any case—" he paused.
"Yes?" said Avery.
Tudor had become wary again. "Perhaps I have said enough," he said.
"I don't know why you should hesitate to speak quite openly," she rejoined steadily. "As you say, I am a bearer of burdens. And I don't think I am easily frightened."
"I am sure you are not," he said. "If I may be allowed to say so, I think you are essentially a woman to be relied on. If I did not think so, I certainly should not have spoken as I have done."