"Yes." She began to tremble a little. "I am sorry," she said. "But—I had to." She stood before him, not meeting his eyes, waiting for him to speak. "I couldn't let him go—for good—without saying good-bye," she said, as he remained silent.
He took her gently by the shoulders. "Chris, look at me!"
She drew back, yet in a moment with a desperate effort she raised her eyes to his. He laid his hand upon her forehead, and looked at her long and searchingly.
She endured the look in quivering silence, but she turned so deathly pale under it that he thought she would faint. Quietly he let her go.
"You will lie down now?" he said.
"Yes," she answered, under her breath.
"Don't be in a hurry to get up," he said. "I will explain to your aunt that I do not wish you to be disturbed, and I shall see her off myself."
He went to the windows and drew the curtains. She watched him silently.
As he turned back into the room, she spoke.
"Trevor, are you angry with me?"
He paused, as if the question were unexpected. "No," he said, after a moment.