The grimness passed from his face. "I shall have to see it to satisfy myself it is going on all right," he said. "But I needn't bother you now. I'll send Mary Ann in with some tea."
"Thank you," said Sylvia. She was gathering her scattered forces again after the blow; she spoke with measured firmness. "Now please don't think about me any more! I am not ill—or going to be. You may look at my knee this evening—if you are very anxious. But not before."
"Then you will stay in bed?" said Burke.
"Very well; if I must," she conceded.
He turned to go; then abruptly turned back. "And you won't lie and worry? You've too much pluck for that."
She smiled again—a quivering, difficult smile. "I am not at all plucky, really. I am only pretending."
He smiled back at her suddenly. "You're a brick! I've never seen any woman stand up to hard knocks as you do. They generally want to be carried over the rough places. But you—you stand on your feet."
The genuine approbation of his voice brought the colour back to her face. His smile too, though it reminded her piercingly of Guy, sent a glow of comfort to her chilled and trembling heart.
"I want to if I can," she said. "But I've had rather a—knock-out this time. I shall be all right presently, when I've had time to pull myself together."
He bent abruptly and laid his hand upon hers.