"You're tired of me! Is that it?" she demanded.
He raised his brows. "You haven't given me much opportunity to be that, have you?" he said.
A great wave of colour went over her face. She put up her hand as though instinctively to shield it.
"I've done my best to—to—to—" She stopped, became piteously silent, and suddenly he saw that she was crying behind the sheltering hand.
He softened almost in spite of himself.
"Come here, Puck!" he said.
She shook her head dumbly.
"Come here!" he repeated.
She came towards him slowly, as if against her will. He reached forward, still seated, and drew her to him.