"You were not miserable before I joined you, no?" he said, smiling back at her.
"Of course I wasn't. But that was quite different. I knew all the while that you were coming. I should have been if anything had happened to prevent you."
"Really?" he said thoughtfully.
"Yes, really!" Chris was emphatic. "And I am sure there is nothing much the matter with you, Bertie; now, is there?"
He scarcely responded. "It will pass," he said. "And so you have arranged to make visits this afternoon?"
"Yes. Isn't it a bother?" Chris's brow wrinkled. "Noel wanted me to go and fish with him, but Trevor says I must go and see Mrs. Pouncefort, so I suppose I must. I hoped he would come too, but he has got to stay and interview the architect about that subsidence in the north wing. I wish you would come instead."
He shook his head. "No—no! That is not possible. Where does this lady live?"
"Sandacre way, towards the sea. Oh, do you know Rupert is coming over on Sunday with some brother officers? I had a card from him this morning. He is very fond of Mrs. Pouncefort—they all are. I don't know quite why. I believe they spend half their time there. Mr. Pouncefort is a dear little man—no one could help liking him. He has a yacht, and they always have a crowd of people staying there at this time of the year."
"Alors," he said, "it will amuse you to go there, no?"
Chris smiled. "Oh, not particularly. I would much rather stay with you and Trevor. Besides, I've such a lot to do."