He stooped and kissed her, and found that she was trembling. Quietly he took her hand into his, and began to feel her pulse.
She made a nervous movement to frustrate him, but he gently insisted and she became passive.
"There is nothing serious the matter," she said uneasily. "I—I didn't sleep very well last night, that's all. I thought you wouldn't mind if I didn't come to meet you."
Mordaunt, with the tell-tale, fluttering pulse under his fingers, made gentle reply. "Of course not, dear. I think you are quite right to take care of yourself. Is your head very bad?"
"No, not now. I think I'm just tired. I shall be all right after a night's rest."
Again she tried to slip her hand out of his grasp, and after a moment he let it go.
"Please don't worry about me," she said. "You won't, will you?"
"Not if there is really no reason for it," he said.
She stirred restlessly. "There isn't—indeed. Aunt Philippa will tell you that. I was letting off fireworks with Noel only last night."
"And set fire to yourself," said Mordaunt.