“Thank you,” she said politely.
“Well, isn’t it?” he returned, glancing at her.
“I don’t know. But I prefer gratitude not altogether expressed in negatives.”
“You know what I mean,” he said rather sulkily. “How much longer am I going to be tied by the leg?”
Lady Wilmot was a born matchmaker. Her eyes began to sparkle.
“Never mind. I’m certain she’s thinking of you a great deal.”
“That’s nothing,” he returned, in the same tone. “It’s her way to take things violently. But if I’m only a weight on her conscience, as soon as I’m all right again, she’ll fling me off.”
His cousin buried her head cosily in a soft silk cushion.
“I wish you’d tell me seriously, Arthur, whether you really mean it?”
“Of course I do.”