"Don't talk like that about her," said Guy, with weak anger, "she is my friend."
"Your friend!" repeated Eustace scornfully. "Yes, the same kind of friend as she is to every man!"
"Eustace!"
He sat up again with a fierce look on his face, but the calm gaze of his cousin disconcerted him, and he sank back on the pillows with an impatient sigh.
"I don't understand you," he said fretfully. "I don't understand--my head is aching--aching terribly."
"Guy, old fellow," said Eustace, in his low, soft voice, which had such an indescribable charm in its tones, "I want to speak to you about your wife."
"My wife?"
"Yes! I have a confession to make to you. I love your wife."
Guy looked at his cousin vacantly, and as if he did not understand.
"You love my wife?" he repeated mechanically. "You love my wife?"