“Pretty well.”
Promptly he was seized with uneasiness. “But not ALL well, hey? Is that it?”
It was true that Hilma had felt a faint tremour of seasickness on the ferry-boat coming from the city to the Oakland mole. No doubt a little nausea yet remained with her. But Annixter refused to accept this explanation. He was distressed beyond expression.
“Now you're going to be sick,” he cried anxiously.
“No, no,” she protested, “not a bit.”
“But you said you didn't feel very well. Where is it you feel sick?”
“I don't know. I'm not sick. Oh, dear me, why will you bother?”
“Headache?”
“Not the least.”
“You feel tired, then. That's it. No wonder, the way rushed you 'round to-day.”