He dropped the blind and caught her. "Why, Stella!" he said.
She clung to him desperately. "I am all right—I am all right! Hold me a minute! I—I tripped against the matting." Gaspingly she uttered the words, hanging upon him, for she knew she could not stand alone.
He put her gently down upon the sofa. "Take it quietly, dear!" he said.
She leaned back upon the cushions with closed eyes, for her brain was swimming. "I am all right," she reiterated. "You startled me a little. I—didn't expect you back so soon."
"I met Barnes just after I started," he made answer. "He is coming to dine presently."
Her heart sank. "Is he?" she said faintly.
"No." Monck's tone suddenly held an odd note that was half-grim and half-protective. "On second thoughts, he can go to the Mess with Tommy. I don't think I want him any more than you do."
She opened her eyes and looked up at him. "Everard, of course he must dine here if you have asked him! Tell Peter!"
Her vision was still slightly blurred, but she saw that the set of his jaw was stubborn. He stooped after a moment and kissed her forehead. "You lie still!" he said. "And mind—you are not to dress for dinner."
He turned with that and left her.