"Yes?" he said.
"I want—to see Guy," she ended, colouring very deeply.
"That's out of the question," said Burke, with quiet decision.
"You certainly won't see him to-day."
"Oh, but I must! I really must!" she pleaded desperately. "My knee isn't very bad. Have you—have you told him I am here yet?"
"No," said Burke.
"Then won't you? Please won't you?" She was urging him almost feverishly now. "I can't rest till I have seen him—indeed. I can't see my way clearly. I can't do anything until—until I have seen him."
Burke was frowning. He looked almost savage, But she was not afraid of him. She could think only of Guy at that moment and of her urgent need to see him. It was all that mattered. With nerves stretched and quivering, she waited for his answer.
It did not come immediately. He was still holding her hand in one of his and feeling her pulse with the other.
"Listen!" he said at length. "There is no need for all this wearing anxiety. You must make up your mind to rest to-day, or you will be ill. It won't hurt you—or him either—to wait a few hours longer."
"I shan't be ill!" she assured him earnestly. "I am never ill. And I want to see him—oh, so much. I must see him. He isn't—he isn't worse?"