“There’s really no cause for anxiety, I assure you.”
“But if you have not had an accident you must at least have been very ill?”
“Oh, no,” answered Miss Scott in an indifferent tone; “only a little influenza since I saw you two months ago. I don’t call that an illness, you know.”
“I’m not sure,” answered Lionel very gravely. “I’ve often heard that the influenza may have very serious consequences. I call being lame quite serious enough.”
“I daresay it will get better,” said Miss Scott cheerfully. “I am quite sure that this kind of lameness can be cured. I’m sorry to have given you such an unpleasant impression.”
“Painful would be a better word,” said Lionel. “I never had such a shock in my life as when you came into the breakfast-room this morning.”
“Yes, I saw. I suppose I had not realised how changed I am.”
“If you would only do your hair as you used to,” Lionel said, “it would be better. Why in the world have you taken to drawing it back in that way?”
“Did you see your mother’s advertisement?” asked Miss Scott.
“No. What had that to do with the way you do your hair?”