“Very ill.”
“His leg is broken, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but not badly. They fear other injuries. A second doctor comes to-night, and Mrs Leslie—his sister.”
Harry’s hopefulness asserted itself against her dreary tone.
“It mayn’t be as bad as they think. I know Fenwick better than they, and he’s a tough fellow. He’ll come round, you’ll see!”
A smile dawned on her face. “Do you really think so, or are you only—saying it?”
“Honour bright, I think so. You see, as I said, I know him, and they don’t.” He added with more effort, “Don’t worry so much over it.”
She turned frankly towards him, and drew a deep breath.
“Perhaps you’re right. At any rate, I’m very glad you came, for there was no one I could speak to, freely. Sir Peter is in his study, and Lady Wilmot makes too light of it, and as for Lady Bodmin, she’s hateful.”
“Yes, then I’m very glad I came,” said Harry manfully.