“You never—you never thought of sending them?”
“Never, never.” Her laughter rippled about him. “I wanted to see——”
But he was groping for the mantel, sick and dizzy now that there was no need of courage. Delilah was at his side in a flash, her arms about him.
“Oh, my dear!” He had found the chair but she still clung to him. “What is it? You’re ill—you’re ill!”
Someone was coming down the stairs; she straightened to rigidity, and was at the door in a flash.
“Captain Lawrence!”
The young Englishman halted abruptly—wheeled.
“Captain Lawrence, Mr. O’Hara is here; he had to see me about some papers, and he has been taken ill. He’s been overworking hideously lately. Will you get me some brandy for him?”
“Oh, I say, what rotten luck!” He lingered, concern touching his pleasant boyish face. “Where do I get the brandy, Mrs. Lindsay?”
“Ask Lucia Dane, she knows how to get hold of the maids. And hurry, will you?”